THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 

IN  MEMORY  OF 

Helen  Clinton 


PRESENTED  BY 

Kathryn  and  Edna  Greiner 


ATHELWOLD 


ELFREDA.     "LOOK   YOU    HERE" 


ATHELWOLD 


BY 

AMELIE    RIVES 


NEW    YORK 

HARPER  AND   BROTHERS 

MDCCCXCIII 


Copyright,  1893,  by  HAKPBR  &  BROTHERS. 


All  rights  reserved. 


TO 

MY  DEAR  FRIEND  AND  KINSWOMAN 

LEILA  GRAHAM  PAGE 

THIS   LITTLE    BOOK    IS    MOST 
LOVINGLY  DEDICATED 


81  f?9RO 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


ELFREDA.    "  LOOK  YOU  HERE  "   .      .  Frontispiece 
EDGAR  AND  ATHELWOLD    ....  Faces  page   6 

ELFREDA  AND  HER  NURSE.    ...  "       26 

**  BY  ALL  THE  SAINTS  !"....  "       34 

"REMEMBER" "       82 

"  DOST  THOU  SPEAK  TO  ME  ?  WHAT 

HAVE  I  DONE?" "      104 

ENTER    ELFREDA,  BLAZING   WITH 

JEWELS "       112 

DEATH  OF  ATHELWOLD.  "        Il6 


DRAMATIS  PERSONS 

EDGAR,  King  of  England. 
ATHKLWOLD,  Thane  of  Edgar. 
OSWALD,  a  priest. 

FROTHI,  a  dwarf  and  page  to  Athelwold. 
OLGAR,  Earl  of  Devonshire. 
SIGEBERT,  Athelwold's  friend. 
ELFKEDA,  Olgar's  daughter. 
BERTHA,  a  waiting-woman. 
ELFLEDA,  the  King's  favorite. 
ELFREDA'S  NURSE. 


ACT   I 
SCENE  i. — A  Hall  in  the  Palace. 

[Enter  SIGEBERT  and  ATHELWOLD,  followed  by 
the  dwarf  FROTHI.] 

Sig.  I   tell   thee,  Athelwold,  he    means   thee 

harm; 
"Pis  in  the  very  trick  o's  eyelids. 

Atb.  Well  ? 

To  mean  harm  is  but  little.     Were  a  wolt 
To  think  alone  of  biting,  who'd  fare  ill  ? 

Sig.  Thou    speakest    well    o'    wolves.      Ay, 

Athelwold, 

Edgar  hath  not  yet  rid  us  of  them  all. 
Though  he  hath  chased  the  greater  part  to  Wales; 
He  hath  a  wolf-cub  to  his  pampering 
Beneath  this  very  roof. 

Atb.  Who?     Oswald? 

Sig.  Ay, 

Oswald  himself,  none  other.     Oswald — he — 
That  long -lipped,  lean,  up-looking,  crook -eyed 
beast; 


That  cringing,  fawning,  fulsome,  flattering  knave ; 
That   slow  -  speeched,  soft -voiced,  wide -smiled 
Oswald. 

Atb.  So 

Thou  dost  not  love  this  Oswald  overwell  ? 

Sig.  Thou  knowest  that  I  hate  him. 

Atb.  And  for  what  ? 

Sig.  Thou  dost  outpatience  me !     I  hate  him 

for— 

I  hate  him  on  account  of —     Oh,  I  hate  him 
Because  that  he  is  Oswald. 

Atb.  Sagely  put. 

Thou  couldst  not  hate  him  were  he  not  himself. 
That  were  a  fault  somewhat  beyond  his  mending. 

Sig.  Wilt  thou  be   light  ?      I   say  he  means 
thee  hurt. 

Atb.  To  mean  is  one  thing,  and  to  hurt  an 
other. 

Sig.  Then  thou  wilt  not  be  warned? 

Atb.  Sigebert,  come  here. 

I  love  thee  well,  and  that  thou  knowest,  lad. 
Thou  dost  love  me,  and  that  I  also  know. 
Moreover,  I  know  this — that  ofttimes  love 
Imagines  danger  where  all  is  secure. 
Think  you  'tis  in  the  power  of  such  an  one 
As  thou  hast  said  this  Oswald  to  hurt  me, 
The  King's  friend,  Athelwold  ? 

Sig.  It  is  for  that 

I  think  he  means  thee  harm. 
2 


Atb.  For  what,  boy  ? 

Sig.  Why, 

For  that  thou  art  the  King's  friend,  Athelwold. 
All's  sunshine  now — flowers  bend  about  thy  way, 
The  wheels  of  thy  triumphal  car  crush  roses — 
A  pebble  may  clog  all. 

Atb.  What  say'st  ? 

Sig.  A  word, 

A  look,  a  hint  dropped  when  the  King's  in  wine ; 
Thou  may'st  have  vexed  him  with  some  haughty 

freak, 

Have  jostled  'gainst  his  poise  of  self-esteem, 
Have  made  too  free,  have  laughed  too  long. 

Ath.  What  then  ? 

Sig.  Then  comes  this  Oswald  with  his  honey 

tongue, 

Which  overrolls  the  bitter  of  his  words 
As  actual  honey  deadens  nauseous  drugs — 
Comes  he,  I  say,  and  into  Edgar's  ear, 
Ready  and  dull  with  wine,  doth  drop  some  jest, 
Only  mayhap  some  hint,  some  slight  allusion, 
Some  dainty  telling  of  some  doubtful  tale ; 
And  thou  wilt  then  discover  all  too  late 
That  Sigebert  warned  thee  not  without  occasion. 

Ath.  Soft,  soft,  sweet  boy !     Be  not  offended. 

Come, 
I  will  be  light  no  longer.     Dost  thou  think  this  ? 

Sig.  As  I  do  live  I  think  it ! 

Ath.  Thou  hast  noted  ? 

3 


Hast  watched  him?  hast  deduced  this  from  his 

actions  ? 

Sig.  I  have  his  actions  down  as  in  a  book. 
He  means  thee  harm. 

Ath.  The  rogue's  a  vicious  rogue, 

Yet  I  have  never  vexed  him  that  I  know. 

Sig.  I  think  for  that,  mayhap,  he  hates  thee 

more. 
Ath.  Well,  well,  I  will  be  careful.     So  content 

thee, 

I  will  be  careful,  sweetheart.     Ah,  the  King ! 
Sig.  The  King — and  Oswald. 

[Enter  EDGAR  and  OSWALD.] 

Ed.  Greeting,  gentlemen. 

(To  ATHELWOLD.)     Look  you,  my  Thane,  a 

word  with  you  apart. 

Good  friends,  I  pray  you  take  it  not  amiss 
If  I  do  ask  your  absence  for  a  time. 
By  Paul,  'tis  well ! 

[Exit  SIGEBERT  and  OSWALD.] 
Atb.  What,  Edgar? 

Ed.  Why,  to  walk, 

Stretch  our  minds'  muscles  in  an  equal  tug, 
And  scuffle  for  convictions.     Feel  the  King 
But  in  this  golden  hoop  which  thou  shall  have 
To  rest  thy  foot  on  as  we  talk.     So,  bauble ! 

[Flings  his  crown  from  him.] 
Look  there,  my  Thane,  spins  it  not  merrily  ? 
4 


The  crown  feels  not  the  dignity  it  makes. 
So  wanton  are  all  emblems,  that  the  cloak 
Which  folds  a  king  will  kiss  a  crooked  nail 
As  quickly  as  a  beggar's  gabardine 
Will  do  like  office,  and  a  monarch's  crown 
Spin  like  a  discus  fallen  from  the  mark. 
Let  us  sit  here. 

Ath.  Thou'rt  in  a  foreign  mood. 

Who  set  the  fashion  ? 

Ed.  Why,  go  hang,  Sir  Thane ! 

Fashions  are  princes'  lackeys.     But  a  truce. 
Know  you  Lord  Olgar  ? 

Atb.  Earl  of  Devonshire  ? 

Ed.  The  man.     You  know  him  ? 

Ath.  If  to  know  his  deeds 

Be  to  know  him,  why,  then  I  know  him. 

Ed.  Soft. 

What  deeds  translate  the  doer  properly  ? 
Nero  once  stooped  to  pat  his  mother's  hound. 
I  say,  know  you  this  man  in  person  ? 

Atb.  Nay ; 

I  have  not  even  seen  him. 

Ed.  There's  much  talk 

About  his  daughter.     Were  the  breath  of  praise 
Given  simultaneously,  there  were  a  wind 
To  blow  her  into  heaven. 

Atb.  And  as  it  is, 

There  hath  sufficient  been  already,  sire, 
To  waft  her  into  Edgar's  estimation  ? 
5 


Ed.  Go  hang !     I  am  but  mine  own  gossiper. 
They  say  that  she  is  beautiful. 

Ath.  My  liege, 

Were  spoken  beauty  always  actual, 
There's  not  an  ugly  maid  in  England. 

Ed.  Well, 

I  know  none. 

Ath.  That  were  like  as  tho'  St.  Peter 

Should  seek  to  prove  the  emptiness  of  hell 
By  saying  that  he  knew  none  of  its  inmates. 
Now,  Edgar,  as  I  live,  'tis  my  belief 
That  Satan  will  intrust  thy  bed  o'  coals 
To  some  uncomely  wench.     There  were  no  tort 
ure 
Could  subtler  touch  thee. 

Ed.  Nay,  I'll  swear  that's  false. 

I  am  more  racked  when  men  do  talk  like  maids  5 
Therefore  I  am  more  tortured  o'  the  instant. 
Give  o'er  this  jest,  my  swordsman ;  I  would  hear 
More  o*  this  maid. 

Ath.  Then  it  is  safe  to  say 

This  maid  hears  more  of  thee. 

Ed.  I  say,  give  o'er. 

Thou'st  seen  her  ? 

Atb.  Nay ;  nor  tree  nor  blossom. 

Ed.  Come, 

What  is  this  foolery  ? 

Ath.  Why,  'tis  to  say, 

I  have  not  seen  the  sire  or  the  daughter. 
6 


EDGAR   AND    ATHELWOLD 


Ed.  Three  men  to-day  have  told  me  of  her 
beauty. 

Atb.  Three   girls   to  -  morrow   will    deny   the 
statement. 

Ed.  I  will  the  more  believe  it  in  that  case. 
I  am  afire  with  fancy,  Athelwold ; 
In  love  with  painted  air.     A  patch  of  light 
Upon  the  floor  doth  mind  me  of  the  hue 
They  say  her  locks  are,  and  I  can  but  think 
Upon  the  tender  roundness  of  her  arms 
When  some  such  pretty  arm  doth  woo  mine  eyes. 
Words  are  but  gems  for  her  adorning.     Yea, 
IVe  set  her  very  motion  to  a  tune. 
I  hav't  by  heart — her  look,  her  voice,  her  lips. 
They  say  her  eyes  are  blue.     All  heaven's  above 
To  keep  me  from  forgetting.     Look  you  here. 
This  is  no  uncrowned  babble ;  man  and  king 
Both  speak  in  this :  I  tell  thee,  Athelwold, 
If  she  be  fair  as  by  report  she  shows, 
I'll  make  her  Queen  of  England — 

Atb.  What,  my  lord  ? — 

Ed.  I  say  I'll  make  her  Queen  of  England. 

Atb.  Queen  ? 

Art  thou  in  earnest? 

Ed.  Ay,  I'll  make  her  Queen  j 

Espouse  her,  crown  her,  seat  her  on  my  throne. 
But  I  must  have  a  certain  knowledge. 

Atb.  What ! 

All  this  on  sober  Friday  ? 
7 


Ed.  Nay,  I  tell  thee 

I  am  not  jesting. 

Atb.  Tell  me  that  again. 

Ed.  I  say  I  am  not  jesting.     Dost  thou  hear  ? 
I  am  not  jesting.     If  this  maiden,  sir, 
Be  fair  in  truth  as  I  do  picture  her, 
I  swear  by  God's  crown  I  will  give  her  mine. 

Atb.  To  wear  about  her  waist  ? 

Ed.  No,  by  my  troth  ! 

To  give  thee  for  a  collar  as  her  slave, 
An  thou  dost  irk  me  further. 

Atb.  Good  my  liege, 

This  fact  holds  monstrous  mirth  or  little  reason. 
What  hath  so  urged  thee  ? 

Ed.  I  am  fancy-spurred; — 

In  love  with  mine  imagination ;  meshed 
In  webs  of  mine  own  weaving ;  made  a  slave 
By  chains  of  mine  own  hammering.     Give  ear, 
I  would  be  certain. 

Atb.  Well,  my  liege? 

Ed.  I  would 

Be  certain,  Athelwold. 

Ath.  Why,  send  and  learn. 

Ed.  Ay,  that's  my  purpose,  and  thou  art  the 
man. 

Atb.  I,  Edgar? 

Ed.  Yea ;  who  else  ? 

Atb.  Thou  wouldst  send  me 

A-wenching  for  thee  ? 

8 


Ed.  What !     That  word  to  me  ? 

I  told  thee  once — 

Atb.  Then  thou  must  tell  me  twice. 

I  say  I  will  not  do  thy  wenching  for  thee. 

Ed.  Even  Athelwold  may  speak  too  freely. 

Atb.  And 

Even  Edgar  may  require  too  much  of  friendship. 

Ed.  Have  I  not  said  I  wish  her  for  my  Queen  ? 
Is  not  all  honorable  ?     What's  amiss  ? 
There's  one  condition  only — shouldst  thou  find 
That  she  is  not  so  comely  as  men  say, 
Why,  there's  an  end  of  it.     Nor  Queen  nor  leman 
Shall  smile  on  Edgar  with  a  flabby  lip. 
Go  to.     What  fire  is  in  thee  ?     O'  my  word, 
Thou  wouldst  have  been  a  colt  to  break!  Go  hang! 
"  A-wenching  for  me  ?"     It  was  nobly  said  ! 
Now,  by  my  crown,  wert  thou  another — nay, 
Didst  thou  so  much  as  look  unlike  thyself, 
Thou  shouldst  pay  dearly  for  thy  pride ! 

Atb.  I  pay 

More  dear  for  thine,  I  tell  thee,  Edgar. 

Ed.  Nay, 

Try  me  no  more.     Kings  do  not  pardon  twice 
On  the  same  day.     Vex  me  no  further,  sir. 
Thou  art  commissioned  unto  Devonshire 
To  bring  me  word  of  Olgar's  daughter. 

[Exit  angrily.] 

Atb.  So— 

Royalty  is  a  whip  to  scourge  the  time. 
B  9 


As  man  to  man  I  like  him ;  as  my  King, 

He  hath  no  parcel  in  me.     This  is  well  5 

Ay,  this  is  well  indeed.     I  am  commissioned 

To  match  a  blue  eye  by  a  bit  of  heaven ; 

To  find  if  certain  tresses  match  the  sun ; 

If  her  throat  be  so  white,  her  arms  so  smooth, 

Her  motion  delicate.     If  all  these  charms 

Make  up  a  charming  maiden.     By  the  saints — 

Nay,  by  great  Woden,  Thor  the  Hammerer, 

Loki,  and  all  the  gods  of  stalwart  days — 

It  is  enough  to  set  my  sword  adance 

Within  its  scabbard.     I  his  pander  ?     Nay, 

Let  him  set  Oswald  tripping  to  this  tune. 

I  know  but  ill  to  foot  such  love-measures. 

Let  him  send  Oswald — Oswald? — Oswald? — ah! 

Why,  there's  a  thought ! 

[Enter  FROTHI,  his  dwarf.     He  comes  up  behind, 
and  speaks  softly.] 

Fro.  And  here's  another,  master, 

To  keep  it  warm. 

Ath.  How,  Frothi  ?     Art  thou  there  ? 

Fro.  Ay,  master,  and  this  thought  o'  mine  doth 

wait 
Upon  thy  thought,  e'en  as  I  wait  on  thee. 

Ath.  Speak,  boy. 

Fro.         What,  master  ?     In  a  palace  ?     Why, 
Know  you  not  that  to  whisper  of  a  king 
In  his  own  house  is  to  hand  Death  a  weapon  ? 
10 


Ath.  Well,   dare    him,   then.      I   would    this 
thought  of  thine. 

Fro.  Master,  it   doth   concern   a   wolf.     Nay, 

master, 

Lower  thine  ear.     It  treateth  of  a  wolf. 
Edgar  hath  rid  all  England  of  these  wolves. 

Ath.  Say'st  thou  that  also  ? 

Fro.  Nay,  give  ear — stoop  down. 

I  say  the  King  hath  rid  us  of  these  wolves — 
All  saving  one,  who  fled  not  with  the  rest 
To  the  Welsh  hills.     They  call  him  Oswald,  sir. 
I'll  sing  to  thee  a  song  which  hath  for  theme 
His  cunning  and  his  treachery  and  his  fangs. 

Atb.  Say  you  ? 

Fro.  Ay,  master,  but  not  here — not  here. 

Ath.  Why,  then,  without ;  come  on,  boy. 

[Exeunt.] 

SCENE   2. — ELFLEDA'S  Apartment  in  the  Pal 
ace.     ELFLEDA  and  OSWALD. 

Elfl.  You   say  it  works?     You   speak   a  cer 
tainty  ? 

You  watched  them  personally  ?    Marked  his  look  ? 
Noted  his  manner  ?     What  said  Athelwold  ? 
Did  he  agree  straightway,  or  was  there  room 
For  anger  ?     Was  the  King — 

Os-iv.  Peace!  peace!  peace!  peace! 

I  pray  you,  madam,  softly.     Here  are  questions ! 
I  told  thee  that  I  walked  apart  with  Sigebert ; 
n 


How  should  I  watch  them  ?     Sigebert,  thou  dost 

know, 

Holds  Athelwold  as  dear  as  doth  the  King; 
Wouldst  have  the  watcher  watched  ?     Nay,  but 

it  works ; 

It  works.     I'll  stake  my  ears  but  it  doth  work. 
Elfl.  An  thou  dost  tell  me  false,  I'll  take  thy 

ears 
To  feed  my  deer-hound. 

OS-TV.  By  my  troth,  then,  madam, 

Thy  dog  shall  never  die  digesting  me. 
Success  hath  signs  which  the  successful  know. 
I  tell  thee,  it  will  work. 

Elfl.  But  how  of  Athelwold  ? 

Hast  reckoned  of  his  coldness  unto  women  ? 
His  heart  is  iron. 

Os-iu.  Madam,  thou  must  know 

That  iron  heated  is  a  fire  itself. 
What  if  from  passion's  glow  the  after-plunge 
Into  the  icy  waters  of  reflection 
Doth  temper  it  to  steel  ?     The  work  is  done ; 
And,  lady,  not  to  give  thee  witting  pain, 
This  maiden,  this  Elfreda,  is  so  fair 
That  thy  white  self  would  pale  beside  her  beauty 
As  when  a  moon  doth  melt  on  mid-day  skies. 
She  seems   made   up  of  heavenly  moods.     Her 

brow 

Is  fair  as  glimpses  of  the  morning  clouds. 
Her  eyes  like  spaces  where  the  blue  doth  gleam 
12 


Between  them,  and  the  sunset's  after-glow 
Dies  on  her  cheek.     Thou  dost  no  more  com 
pare — 

Sweet  dame,  forgive  me,  but  thou  dost  no  more 
Compare  with  this  Elfreda,  this  slim  maid, 
Than  music  silent  doth  to  music  sung. 

Elfl.  If  thine  the  singing,  I  were  fairer,  knave. 
Dost  think  to  vex  me  by  such  mummery  ? 
Go  kindle  Iceland.     Go  and  blow  the  sea 
Into  a  tempest.     Go  and  light  thy  torch 
At  some  near  star. 

Osw.  Some  falling  star,  mayhap. 

Elfl.    Have  care,  have  care ;    if  thou  forget'st 

thyself, 

Forget  not  me  and  what  I  am,  and  what 
Thou  mayest  be. 

OS-TV.  Why,  no.     Thou  art  Elfleda, 

The  quean  of  Edgar,  not  the  Queen  of  Eng 
land. 

Elfl.  Dog! 

Osw.         Then  beware  my  teeth. 

Elfl.  Now,  as  I  live, 

But  that  thou  hast  more  knowledge  of  this  vent 
ure, 

I'd  have  those  fangs  of  thine  drawn  out  straight 
way 

To  make  fool's  music  in  a  bladder.     Look,  sir, 
If  thou  dost  fail  in  this,  I  will  not  fail 
In  that  I  purpose  for  thy  punishment.        [Exit.] 
13 


Os-iv.  Ay,  'twas  well  thought  of ;  it  was  well 

conceived. 

This  Athelwold — this  rust  upon  my  brightness, 
This  pampered  honey-gatherer  of  the  King, 
This  lion  of  the  dandelion  locks, 
The  stealer  of  week-day  kisses  in  a  church, 
This  bracelet -keeper,  this  dull-sworded  swords 
man, 

This  well-beloved  friend  of  Edgar.     Why, 
Who  else  should  go  on  such  an  errand  ?     Why, 
Who  else  could  better  choose  this  King  a  Queen  ? 
Here  be  a  judge  of  noses !     Here  be  one 
To  rightly  test  the  sweetness  of  a  mouth 
By  tasting ;  learn  the  smallness  of  a  waist 
By  measurement  of  arm !     Men  long  to  love, 
Love  quickest  when  'tis  time ;  for  all  their  lives 
They  do  adore  some  shadow,  which,  reality 
Resembling,  doth  outshine  as  mid-day  sun 
Outshines    the    sparkelries    that    close  -  pressed 

thumbs 

Make  on  the  inner  lids.     I  know  his  bent, 
And,  judging  by  the  women  he  hath  scorned, 
Can  sure  select  the  woman  he  will  love.     [Exit.] 
14 


ACT  II 

SCENE  i. — A  Country  Road. 

[Enter   ATHELWOLD   and   FROTHI,   on   horse 
back.] 

Atb.  Is  this  the  place  ? 

Fro.  I  see  no  crooked  tree, 

As  they  did  tell  us.     Look,  it  should  be  here, 
Just  by  that  barberry-bush. 

Ath.  WeVe  lost  the  way. 

Plague  on  these  rambling  country  roads,  I  say, 
Though  they  led  on  to  heaven !    Boy,  ride  ahead. 
Stay,  here's  my  horse  ;    take    him,  and  tie  him 

there — 

There,  to  that  sapling.     I  will  rest  me  here 
Upon  this  grass  bank,  whilst  thou  dost  inquire 
The  nearest  way  unto  Lord  Olgar's  castle. 
Despatch,  now,  Quick -heels!      Do  not  let  me 

dream 

That  thou  art  back,  and  wake  to  find  thee  ab 
sent.  [Exit  FROTHI.] 
Odds  me  !     I  am  aweary.     This  lush  spot 

[Talking  drowsily,  as  if  falling  asleep.] 
Wooes  me  to  sleep.     So.     I  will  loll  here  at  ease 
Until  my  boy  returns.     Now,  if  I  dream, 
Let  it  not  be  of  waking  ;  yet  to  sleep 
Is  but  to  be  alive  in  spite  of  thee, 
'5 


Defy  thy  reason,  and  do  wondrous  deeds, 

Such  as  to  cast  thy  sword  among  the  stars 

To  loosen  some  for  thine  adorning, — ay, 

As  when  a  boy  casts  billets  at  a  tree 

To  shake  its  apples  earthward.     Do  I  sleep, 

I  pray  I  dream  of  apples,  nothing  wiser. 

Light  dreams  give    heaviest  sleep.      But   then, 

good  sooth ! 

I  never  sleep  in  daytime.     It  is  well 
To  hear  the  summer  humming  of  the  fields, 
Like  love-songs  stifled  in  the  cloak  of  sleep. 
Sleep,  said  I? — Sleep? — I — sleep — not — i'  th'— 

day —  [He  sleeps.] 

[Enter  ELFREDA  and  her  Woman.] 

Elf.  So— Bertha? 

Ber.  Madam  ? 

Elf.  (bending  over  ATHELWOLD).     Look  you 
here! 

Ber.  (cautiously).  Sweet  saints ! 

It  is  a  man ! 

Elf.  A  man  ?     Go  to !     Say  rather 

A  god,  who,  venturing  too  near  the  sun, 
Slipped  with  the  further  glory  to  the  earth. 
Look  you  what  hair !     It  is  more  bright  than 
mine. 

Ber.  No,  madam. 

Elf.  No?     I  tell  you  that  it  is. 

Give  eyes  ;  I'll  match  it. 
16 


Ber.  (fearfully).         Pray  you,  madam — 

Elf.  What? 

Ber.  Why,  do  not  wake  him  ;  do  not  walk  so 

close. 

Elf.  By  Balder !  he  doth  look  like  Balder's  self! 
His  locks  are  spread  like  sunlight  on  the  grass. 
Pah  !    loose   my   sleeve,  thou    timorous    flitter- 

mouse ! 
Ah !    ah ! — his  eyes  are  blue  ;  stoop,  girl ;  peep 

there ; 

See  how  they  gleam  between  his  near-closed  lids, 
Like  so  much  heaven-blue  drowned  in  drops  o' 

rain. 

Til  lay  thee  a  new  kirtle  that  his  hair 
Is  brighter. 

Ber.  Nay,  sweet  lady !    Nay,  come  back. 

Elf.  Pshaw !    Wouldst  thou  sour  me  with  this 

thundering 

Of  fearful  words  ?     Look,  now  !     Said  I  not  so  ? 
[Stoops  and  matches   ATHELWOLD'S  hair 

with  one  of  her  own  tresses.] 
Thou'st  lost  the  petticoat,  but  won  my  love 
By  being  witness  to  my  judgment.     Soft ! 
Step  softer — what  a  voice  your  gown  hath,  girl ! 
Here  be  an  arm  to  crack  the  ribs  of  War, 
Yet  white  out  of  all  correspondence !     Come, 
I  think  'tis  whiter  than  mine  own.     Let's  see. 
[Bares  her  arm,  and  compares  it  with  ATH- 

ELWOLD'S.] 
c  17 


Ber.  Madam  ! — good  mistress ! 

Elf.  It  doth  not  seem  fair 

That  all  this  looking  should  be  on  one  side. 
How  if  I  tickle  him  with  a  grass-blade  ? 

Ber.  Nay, 

Come  ! — come,  for  God's  love !     It  may  be  some 

demon 
In  fair  disguise. 

Elf.  Disguise  so  fair,  good  wench, 

Were  far  too  tight  a  fit  for  wickedness. 
Pluck  me  that  oxlip  there. 

Ber.  Oh,  madam,  tarry ! 

Be  warned,  be  warned !     He  may  awake  in  like 
ness 
Of  some  foul  thing — a  wolf,  a  bear,  a  dragon. 

Elf.  Time  then  to  fly.     Give  me  the  flower, 
wench. 

Ber.  Oh,  I  will  get  me  gone  to  cry  for  help ! 

[Exit  BERTHA.] 

Elf.  (leaning  over  ATHELWOLD  with  the  oxlip.) 
Shall  I  first  touch  him  on  the  lips  or  eyes  ? 
His  lips  are  nearest.    Let  me  see  (laughing).    He 

wakes. 

No ;  sleep  hath  won  him  from  me.    Well,  let  be. 
'Tis  something,  sooth  !  to  find  such  beauty  quiet, 
That  eyes  may  rest  in  looking.     I  will  wait 
Content  unseen  to  see.     There  !  then  he  stirred. 
Nay;  still  as  ever.     Why,  methinks,  in  truth, 
Thou  hast  a  very  genius,  sir,  for  sleeping, 
18 


While  I've  not  even  the  small  consolation 
Of  thinking  that  I  figure  in  thy  dreams, 
Seeing  thou  dost  not  know  me.     What,  again ! 
Thou  dost   grow  restless.     There!  more  sound 

than  ever ! 

I'll  touch  his  eyes  this  time ;  and  now  his  lips  ; 
And  now,  again,  his  eyes  j  and  now  (looking  all 
about  her)  his  lips !  [Kisses  him.] 

Ath.  (starting  up  on  his  elbow).     How,  boy ! 
Where  is't  ?      The  crooked  tree.      What's 
there  ? 
I  have  been  dreaming.     (Sees  ELFREDA.)     Soft, 

though,  I  still  dream. 
What  art  thou  ? 

Elf.  (mysteriously).  Thine  imagination. 
Ath.  Then 

Thou  hast  usurped  my  reason's  office.     Come ! 
Elf.  What  wouldst  thou  ? 
Atb.  I  would  pinch  thee. 

Elf.  Pinch  me  ? 

Atb.  Ay. 

Thou  art  so  like  substance  that  I'd  think 
Myself  a  shadow  ere  thyself  a  dream. 

Elf.  (holding  out  her  hand).    Why,  here,  then. 

Kisses  prove  as  much  as  pinches. 
Ath.  So,  lady  (kisses  her  hand). 
Elf.  Recollect,  I  am  a  dream. 

Ath.  Yea,  that  shall  be  mine  office  when  I  wake. 
Meantime  I'd  prove  thy  other  hand.    [Kisses  it.] 


Elf.  Nay,  sir, 

It  was  a  jest.     Thou  art  awake.     Awake 
In  Devonshire. 

Ath.  That  is  to  dream  of  love. 

Elf.  Such  dreams  prove  often  nightmares.    . 

Ath.  Wake  me,  then. 

Elf.  I  know  not  how. 

Ath.  Show  me  some  ugly  mark — 
Some  mole,  some  flaw,  some  lacking  in  thy  beauty. 
By'r  laykin,  girl !  thou  hast  some  witchery, 
Some  charm.     Dost  walk  with  fern-seed  in  thy 

shoe  ? 
Nay,  heed  me  not.     Here,  take  thy  flowers  and 

run ; 

I  fear  myself.     How  comes  it  woman  eyes 
Look  from  thy  baby  face  ?     Furl  thy  white  lids 
If  thou  wouldst  have  men  recollect  thy  youth  ; 
Thine  eyes  do  lash  the  blood  like  whips  of  flame, 
And  yet  thy  face  is  pure.     It  is  some  freak 
Of  circumstance  ;  but  hide  thine  eyes  from  men 
If  thou  wouldst  keep  thine   honor.      Nay,  fear 

not; 

I  mean  no  hurt  to  thee,  but  all  in  kindness. 
Thou   shouldst   less   fear   my   harshness,  pretty 

maid, 
Than  most  men's  kindness.     There !    run,  run, 

I  say! 

Betwixt  thee  and  my  preaching  there's  no  pulpit. 
Yet  stay ;  I  have  a  thought. 

20 


Elf.  Canst  not  divide  it  ? 

Ath.  Nay ;  'tis  too  meagre  for  division. 

Elf.  Well  ? 

Ath.  Or  ill,  I  know  not.      Pretty  lass,  come 
here. 

Elf.  Thou  hast  just  bidden  me  begone. 

Atb.  Ay,  Ay. 

Elf.  Shall  I  obey  thy  first  or  after  speaking? 

Ath.  (absently).  Those  eyes  of  thine  are  blue. 

Elf.  Is  there  aught  writ 

Against  blue  eyes  ? 

Ath.  Naught  but  what  they  may  read. 

Elf.  Thine  eyes  are  blue. 

Ath.  Look  closer — they're  not  blue. 

Elf.  (looking).    Heaven  is  not  blue  if  they're 
not. 

Atb.  Well,  thy  way. 

Have  thine  own  way.     (Aside.)  Were  I  to  take 

this  maiden 

Back  unto  Edgar,  by  my  sword !  he'd  wed  her, 
If  but  to  match  her  gold  locks  with  a  crown. 

Elf.  What  dost  thou   speak?     Some  charm? 
Why,  then  I'll  run.          [Pretending  to  go.] 

Atb.  Nay,  not  so  quick.     I've  words  for  thee. 

Elf.  Why,  then, 

Keep  them  thyself.     Such  gifts  I  care  not  for. 

Ath.  Gifts  ?     Dost  thou  care  for  baubles,  lady 
bird? 

Elf.  As  birds  for  cherries. 
21 


Atb.  (unbuckling  a  knot  of  precious  stones 
from  his  hat  feather).  Here,  then.  Wilt  thou 
have't  ? 

Elf.  What  for? 

Atb.  A  kiss. 

Elf.  Nay,  keep  it. 

Atb.  What!  so  coy? 

Thy  veil  is  bolder. 

Elf.  Nay ;  it  flies  away. 

I'll  follow. 

Atb.  Soft :  run  not.     Keep  thy  red  lips 

Unto  thy  husband's  kissing;  I'll  not  rob  him — 
Thy  future  lord — of  one.     Yet  such  were  thieves 
More  blessed  in  sin  than  virtue.     Look  you,  girl, 
I'll  kiss  you  spite  o'  perjury.     Soft — soft — 
Talons,  my  dove  ? 

[He  holds  her,  and  she  feigns  to  struggle.] 

Elf.  I'll  bite  thee  for  thy  kiss ! 

Ath.  Why,  thou'rt  a  pretty  griffin,  claws  and 

teeth ! 
Gently,  my  wild  one — 

Elf.  Ha !  thou  durst  not  do  it ! 

Atb.  Thou  durst  not  bite  me. 

Elf.  Thou  durst  not  kiss  me ! 

Ath.  Why,  so,  then — so,  then — so,  then — (kiss 
ing  her.  ELFREDA  feigns  to  weep).  Nay, 
pale  saints ! 

What  have  I  done  ?     Weep  not !     Weep  not ! 
What  devil 


Am  I  possessed  of?     No  more  tears.     Look  up. 

Art  thou  a  village  lass  ?     Thy  parents  poor  ? 

I'll  give  thee  moneys — all  thy  kirtle  full 

Of  broad  gold  pieces.     Pretty  bird,  weep  not ! 

Look  you,  if  kisses  scarred,  you  well  might  weep. 

Why,  if  men's  kisses  left  small  spots  o'  green, 

Young   maids   would  walk   as   verdant   as   the 
spring ! 

Give  me  thy  name,  and  I  will  make  it  famous; 

Ay,  thou  shalt  have  it  writ  above  thy  grave : 

"  Here  lies  a  maid  who  cried  because,  instead 

Of  for   a   kiss —        Why,  there,  that's   right ! 
Smile — smile  ! 

Is  thy  home  far  ?     An  'tis,  thou  shalt  mount  up 

And  ride  behind  me.     Come  ! 

Elf.  Nay,  I  must  go, 

And  as  I  came.     Here,  sir,  take  back  thy  jewel ; 

I'll  none  of  it. 

Atb.  Give  me  my  kiss  back,  too.    [Kisses  her.] 
Elf.  Out  on  thee  !  [Runs  out.] 

Ath.  How  she  moves !     Her  noble  gait 

Matches  her  birth  as  little  as  her  eyes. 

[Enter  FROTHI.] 

Heigho !  here  comes  the  lad.     What  news,  boy  ? 

Fro.  Sir, 

Good  news  j    we  be  but  short  ways  from   the 

castle. 

Ere  sundown  we  can  reach  it. 
23 


Atb.  Well,  come  on. 

Did  see  one  running  as  thou  rodest  along? 

Fro.  Ay,  sir.    As  fair  a  Jane-of-Apes,  in  truth, 
As  e'er  I  looked  on — laughing  as  she  ran. 

Atb.   Laughing  ? 

Fro.  Ay,  sir,  and  that  with  all  her  might. 

Her  pretty  bosom,  working  up  and  down, 
Did,  like  a  bellows,  blow  the  flame  o'  mirth 
Into  her  eyes.     God's  me !  she  laughed,  sir ! 

Atb.  Laughed  ? 

Fro.  What's  there  in  laughing  ? 

Ath.  Naught  but  what  we  see. 

(To  himself.)  Well,  laughing !     Well,  the  jade! 

Fro.  What  say'st  thou,  sir  ? 

Ath.  That  we  must  hasten  supper  wards.    Come 
on.  [Exeunt.] 

SCENE  2. — A  Room  in  OLGAR'S  Castle,  ELFRE- 
DA'S  NURSE  sitting  at  her  spinning. 

Nur.  Whence  got  she  these  ungodly  ways  ?     I 

know  not. 

She  hath  been  brought  up  at  the  knee  o'  Wisdom, 
As  'twere  upon  her  milk.    With  such  a  mother — 
Lord !  Lord ! — I  know  not  how  it  is — not  I ! 
And  yet  she  is  so  fair,  the  saucy  hussy ! 
She'll  turn  me  as  I  turn  this  wheel  o'  mine. 
I  can  naught  with  her.    Still  she'll  jaunt  the  road 
In  coarse  attire,  drest  out  in  Bertha's  kirtle. 
Well,  well,  I  know  not  how  to  mend  it.     Heaven 
24 


Doth  know  I  scold  and  scold,  and  pray  and  pray  ] 
To-day  she  hath  set  forth.     I  followed  her ; 
Besought  her  with  much  trick  o'  tongue  and  love 
That  she  would  not  set  forth.   Soft !    Let  me  hear. 
It  is  my  lady. 

[Enter  BERTHA,  breathless.] 

How !  thou  margot  pye  ? 
What  dost  thou,  and  without  my  lady  ? 

Ber.  Nay, 

Word  me  not,  goody.     I  have  come  for  thee. 
My  lady  will  be  tarrying  i'  th'  lane, 
A-tickling  of  a  sleepy  knight  with  flowers. 

Nur.  Dost  want  my  spindle,  hussy  ?     What's 

this  clack  ? 
Wilt  word  me,  then  ?     Knowest  not  to  hold  thy 

tongue  ? 

My  lady  tarrying  tickling  in  a  lane  ! 
Hold  !  Here  be  she  herself !  Hark  how  she  laughs ! 
Methinks  she  hath  been  tickling  of  herself, 
Hey,  ninny?     Thou  fat-witted  tattler,  thou  ! 

[ELFREDA  enters  and  flings  herself  upon  a  settle, 
laughing  and  breathless.] 

How  now,  my  lamb  ?    How  now,  my  pretty  one  ? 
Thou'rt  in  fine  feather. 

Elf.  Am  I  so?     Oh,  nurse, 

How  thine  old  tongue  will  wag!     What  eyes 
thou'lt  make ! 
D  25 


"  He'll  fill  my  kirtle  up  with  broad  gold  pieces." 
Nay,  let  me  laugh !  I'll  ne'er  be  quits  with  mirth. 
Ho  !  Is't  thou,  Bertha  ?  Fair  good  -  morrow, 

Bertha. 
Get  to  the  kitchen,  girl.     Be  off,  I  say ! 

[Exit  BERTHA.] 
Now,  nurse,  take  breath.      Thou  hast  an  hour 

before  thee 
Of  most  fierce  jaw-work. 

Nut:  Wilt  thou  tease  me,  honey  ? 

Lord !    Lord !    but   thou   be   hot !      A-running, 

lamb? 

Let  me  disrobe  thee ;  let  me  fetch  thy  gown. 
These  rags  do  shame  thy  station  and  my  office. 

Elf.  Let  be,  let  be,  until  I  tell  my  tale. 
How  thou  wilt  scold  me  !     And  he  thought  I 

wept ! 

By  all  birds'  wings  that  ever  flew,  good  nurse, 
Freedom  is  sweet !     Wild  maidenhood  is  sweet ! 
Saints  !  he  can  kiss  !     He  hath  the  kissing  cut. 
My  blood  ran  up  to  meet  his  mouth.      Speak, 

nurse : 
Was  that  a  sin  ?     'Ware  how  thou  answerest, 

though, 

Lest  I  find  sin  more  sweet  than  virtue.     Ah, 
Wast  thou  e'er  kissed,  nurse  ? 

Nur.  (simpering).  Time  and  time  again. 

Elf.  Is  that  the  reason  of  thy  lack  o'  lips  ? 
Methinks  'twill  take  a  merry  thought  o'  time 
26 


ELFREDA    AND    HER    NURSE 


To  kiss  my  lips  away.     Look  you,  sweet  nurse  ; 
What  of  blue  eyes  ?     Hast  thou  some  legend  ? 

Eyes 

That  seem  the  condensation  of  all  heaven. 
What's  said  of  blue-eyed  men  ? 

Nur.  A  might  o'  things. 

Elf.  Well,  word  it,  word  it !     What  is  said  of 

them? 
Nur.  That  doth  depend   upon  the   one   that 

speaks. 
Elf.  Go   to !     I'll   pinch   thee.      Look   thee, 

nurse ;  i'  faith, 

Soberly,  dainty  nurse,  is  there  no  song, 
No  elfin  singing  of  these  blue-eyed  men  ? 
Nur.  Ay,  ay,  belike. 

Elf.  Belike,  sweet  nurse  ? 

Nur.  Belike 

His  daddy  or  his  dam  was  blue-eyed  too. 

Elf.  Out  on  thee  !     Wilt  thou  be  in  my  dis 
pleasure  ? 

Nay,  nay,  I  meant  it  not ;  but  jest  no  more. 
What  o'  blue  eyes  ? 

Nur.  (tapping  her  chin  thoughtfully).     Let's 

see — let's  see — let's  see. 
They'd  make  a  red  nose  look  the  redder. 

Elf.  (pettishly).  Oh, 

I  hate  thee ! 

Nur.  (almost  in  tears).  Well-a-day! 
Elf.  (coaxingly).  No  j  now  I  love  thee. 

27 


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The  friend  of  Edgar,  owner  of  much  gold, 
Lord  of  the  noblest  fields  in  England,  child. 
Come !  slough  these  dingy  rags,  my  bright-eyed 

snake  ; 

Trick  thee  in  all  thy  best  to  welcome  him. 
See  you  unto  it,  nurse.     No  dallying.     Come, 
Trip  it,  my  lass.    This  may  mean  all  or  nothing. 

[Exeunt  omnes.] 

SCENE  3. — A  Hall  in  OLGAR'S  Castle. 

[Enter  ATHELWOLD  alone.] 
Ath.  This  venture  doth  hang  heavily  upon  me. 
Edgar  hath  halved  my  love  for  him  by  this, 
And    hath    retained   the   worm  -  eaten    portion. 

Yea, 

I've  shut  mine  eyes  upon  his  tyranny, 
So  long  as  me  it  touched  not ;  now,  indeed, 
Its  sharp  and  grasping  fangs  sink  in  my  flesh. 
I'm  vexed  for  being  vexed.     Knew  he  not  oth 
ers 

To  do  this  thing  for  him  ?    Friendship  hath  laws 
More  stern  than  kingdoms.     I  confess  in  full 
That  I  chafe  at  it.     If  the  maid  prove  worthy, 
I'll  yield  this  King  my  fealty  and  his  Queen 
At  the  same  time,  make  monk-pens  of  my  castles, 
And  swing  a  foreign  sword  in  mine  own  cause. 
Yet  he  hath  loved  me.     But  he  should  not  try 

me 
Unto  this  measure. 

30 


[Enter  OLGAR.] 

Olg.  Sir,  I  crave  thy  patience. 

Thou  shalt  be  served  forthwith,  in  such  short 

time 

As't  takes  a  wench  to  put  her  gewgaws  on. 
My  daughter  will  attend  us.     But  what  news  ? 
What  news  o'   men  and  men's  work  ?      Is  all 

smooth  ? 

And  Oswald  ?     Goes  he  sleekly  as  of  yore  ? 
They  say  he  hath  high  favor  at  the  court 
And  with  the  priesthood.      Well,  I'll  tell  thee, 

sir, 

A  priest  ne'er  set  the  fashion  o'  my  liking. 
Why,  look  you,  now,  the  man  hath   no  more 

brawn! 

Look  you — mine  arm.      I  am  well  gone  in  years, 
Yet  could  I  twirl  this  Oswald  as  a  branch, 
A  last  year's  leaf !     There's  not  enough  of  man 
In  him  to  cast  a  shadow.     Well,  well,  well ! 
Kings  have  strange  whims.     Kings'  dreams  have 

meanings.     Well, 
I  know  not.     But  this  Oswald.     It  doth  maze 

me — 

I'll  say  as  much  to  thee — but  these  strong  men 
Do  often  hanker  after  weak  ones.     Ay, 
It  is  as  though  they  liked  the  manners,  sir, 
Of   things    that    claim    protection.      How    go 

wenches  ? 

31 


Who's  uppermost  ?    No  Queen  as  yet,  of  course  ? 

'Twere  well  there  were  a  Queen.     Thou  know'st 
the  law 

Of  marriage.     It  were  well  he  took  a  wife, 

Say  you  ?     That's  well.     Sir,  I  do  bid  you  wel 
come. 

My  failing  eyes  have  joy  in  you.     Old  age, 

Self-honoring,  doth  ever  honor  youth. 

Is  it  that  hussy  kitchen-wench  Elfleda 

Who  yet   holds   sway  o'er    Edgar  ?     That  El 
fleda  ? 

Not,  truly !     What !  so  ?     Well,  well,  who  would 
think  it  ? 

Doth  she  not  squint  ?    Well !  one  shall  hear  such 
tales. 

'Tis  all  men's  business  if  a  king's  jade  squints. 

Thou'lt  tarry  with  us  for  a  month  or  so  ? 

Nay,  now — no  nays  but  mine.     If  thou  couldst 
know 

The  joy  it  gives  me  to  hold  speech  with  thee ! 

It  makes  mine  own  youth  smell  like  spring  re 
turned. 

I  tell  thee,  memory  hath  a  ticklish  way 

Of  riding  on  a  perfume.     There's  some  scent 

Of  horse  and  leather — nay,  of  grass  and  steel — 

Nay,  but   of —  well,  God   wot !    of  something, 
boy, 

That  makes  my  youth  a  presence  i'  the  room. 

Come,  yield  thy  promise. 
32 


[Enter  ELFREDA.] 

Ha,  my  lass,  come  hither. 

Give  me  thy  supper-worth  o'  sweet  persuasions. 
This  is  my  daughter,  sir  ;  and  this,  my  pretty, 
Is  that  Lord  Athelwold  of  whom  thy  nurse 
Hath  no  doubt  put  out  fires  with  telling  thee. 
Ath.  (aside).  Heaven  fall  on  me  if  this  be  not 

in  truth 
My  Lady  o1  th'  Lane ! 

Elf.  (aside).  By  all  the  saints! 

Sir  Sleepy  Eyes!  Now  would  to  all  above 
My  lips  had  touched  a  red-hot  searing-iron 
Ere  they  had  wed  with  his! 

Olg.  Come,  word  it,  lass ! 

La!  la!      Both    stricken  dumb?     What's  with 

thee,  girl  ? 

Up  with  thy  chin.     'Tis  coyness  overdone  ; 
None   can   digest   it.      Why,  my  madam   glib- 
tongue, 
What's  come  to  thee? 

Elf.  I  have  a  dizziness. 

Olg.  Sell't  for  a  kiss  (kissing  her).     So,  lass — 

go  lightly.     Up, 

Up  with  thy  head.     A  welcome   for  his   lord 
ship. 
Elf.  Your  lordship — you  are — I  am — that  is, 

we — 
Are  very  welcome. 

*  33 


Olg.  (aside  to  ELFREDA).     Out !     Thou  art 

bewitched ! 

There  is  some  pixy  lodging  in  thy  wimple. 
Thou  givest  tongue  no  better  than  a  house-dog. 
Why,  out !     Where  are  thy  wits  ? 

(Aloud.)  Fair  sir,  the  lass 
Hath  something  that  she  calls  a  dizziness. 
'Tis  a  new  gift  o'  wilfulness.     Well,  well ; 
She'll  tire  of  it  anon.     I'll  leave  ye,  sir, 
That  ye  may  find  your  tongues  while  I  am  ab 
sent. 
Give  ye  good  speed. 

Elf.  Nay,  father ! 

Olg.  Stay,  my  lord ! 

Why,  what  the  saints,  girl !     Pluck  me  not  so, 

lass! 

This  coat's  an  old  coat,  and  doth  need  respect 
I'  th'  handling.     I  do  say  that  while  ye  chatter 
I'll  look  unto  the  venison. 

Ath.  Good,  my  lord ! 

Thou  makest  way  but  for  regret,  since,  truth, 
We  value  thee  above  thy  venison. 

Elf.  Ay, 

Ay,  father  ;  go  not.     Let  me  go  ;  thou  know'st 
I  have  a  knack  with  venison. 

Olg.  Why,  what's  this  ? 

(Aside.)    Thou    arrant   baggage !      Thou    wee- 
brained  ouph  ! 

Know  you  not  'tis  a  chance  ye  lose  ?     Moreover, 
34 


<:  BY    ALL    THE    SAINTS  !" 


Each  chance  overlooked  is  snapt  up  by  the  devil 
To  weight  the  balances  against  us ! 

(Aloud.)  Sir, 

Methinks  I  smell  a  smell  o'  burning  meat 
You  know  not  how  a  hunter  loves  his  game. 
I  am  more  patient  with  my  spitted  venison 
Than  e'er  was  Beelzebub  with  a  roast  o'  priest- 
flesh. 

Nay,  sir — 'tis  burning.     Naught  can  hold  me! 

Ha !  [Rushes  out.] 

Atb.  (impetuously).  Madam,  upon  my  knees  I 

crave  your  pardon. 

Say  but  the  word,  and  I  am  gone  o'  th'  instant, 
Without  excuse  or  farewell. 

Elf.  Nay — my  father — 

Thou  owest  him  a  deference. 

Atb.  Did  he  know, 

His  henchman  would  compel  me  from  his  gates. 
Elf.  (archly).  Would'st  have  me,  sir,  usurp  his 

henchman's  office  ? 

Atb.  Lady,  I  swear  to  thee  that  mine  offence 
Was  ignorant ;  and  yet,  could  I  undo  it, 
Sooner  I'd  leave  thee  now  than  have  that  kiss 
Melt  from  my  memory's  lips. 

Elf.  Sir,  you  forget. 

Atb.  Nay ;    I  remember.      If  thou    dost   for 
give, 

Let  me  but  touch  thy  hand  in  token  of  it. 
Elf.  They  say  we  should  forgive. 
35 


Atb.  Thou  art  a  saint! 

Elf.  No,  by  my  womanhood ! 

Ath.  Then  thou  art  more. 

For,  by  my  manhood,  thou'rt  the  very  crown 
And  top  of  womanhood !     (Aside.)  What  do  I 

say? 

Ha  !     Loyalty,  thou  hast  outgrown  thy  dress. 
Let  me  remember  how  I  stand  in  this. 
(In  a  cold  voice.)  Madam,  I  am  beholden  to  thee 

in  all. 
Command  me. 

Elf.  (aside).  Here's  a  sudden  frost !     But  now 
He  was  afire  where  all  is  present  ice. 
(Aloud.)  I  thank  thee,  gentleman.     Here  is  my 
father. 

[Enter  OLGAR.] 

Olg.  So !     Have  ye  found  your  tongues  ?     So  ! 

Athelwold, 

Hath  she  unbended  ?     'Tis  a  pretty  sight 
To  watch  a  maid  unbend  from  coyness.     Ay, 
'Tis  like  a  young  branch  springing  up  again 
From  its  plucked  weight  of  fruit.     Well,  well. 

I  see, 

I  see  how 'tis.     Come,  lead  her,  Athelwold. 
Thy  hand,  lass.     Come,  my  venison  would  al 
lure 
A  ghost  to  gluttony.     Come  on,  come  on. 

[Exeunt.] 
36 


[Enter  FROTHI.] 

Fro.  I  like  not  this — I  like  not  that  maid's 

eyes. 

And  it  was  she  who  ran  and  laughed  to-day. 
Oh,  ay !     Though  she  were  thicker  sewn  with 

gems 
Than  a  white,  beach  with  pebbles,  I  would  know 

her. 

She  is  too  beautiful ;  and  there's  a  devil 
But  half  drowned  in  her  eyes.     I  like  it  not. 
She  hath  a  way  with  her  it  hath  ta'en  my  lord ; 
She  'th  come  upon  his  judgment  from  the  rear, 
And  killed  his  reason  with  her  poniard  eyes. 
Ay,  ay,  I've  word  of  her.     I  know  all  England 
Gapes  at  her  beauty.     Well,  if  she  were  true — 
But  truth  to  one  is  falseness  to  another. 
What  of  the  King  ?     I  would  I  knew  her  bent. 
Here  comes  her  woman  ;  I  will  talk  with  her. 

[Enter  BERTHA.] 

Ber.  La,  sir,  is't  thou  ? 

Fro.  Sweet  murderess,  none  other. 

Ber.  How  ?    Murderess !    Be  these  court  man 
ners  ?     Murderess  ? 

Fro.  Why,  hast  thou  not  killed  Melancholy  by 
thine  approach  ?  By  my  troth,  the  rogue  hath  a 
fairer  death  than  he  deserves. 

Ber.  La,  sir !    I've  heard  tell  of  how  you  court 
37 


gallants  will  talk  and  talk,  and  ne'er  a  meaning 
at  the  bottom  o'  a  hundred  words. 

Fro.  And  have  they  also  told  thee  how  we  may 
mean  and  mean,  and  ne'er  a  word  atop  o'  all  this 
meaning  ?  Ha  ? 

Ber.  La,  sir !     What  wilt  thou  be  staring  at  ? 

Fro.  Thou  hast  a  look  o'  thy  mistress.  O' 
my  word,  a  copy  in  brown  o'  a  monstrous  fair 
painting. 

Ber.  (simpering).  They  do  say  I  have  her  walk. 

Fro.  And  her  eyes  to  an  eyelash. 

Ber.  (simpering  more  than  ever).  I  have 
thought  it. 

Fro.  Do  we  agree  thus  early  ?  Sweet  omen ! 
But,  being  so  alike  in  outward  seeming,  methinks 
thy  souls  should  resemble  also.  Are  thy  invisible 
selves  well  matched  ? 

Ber.  Not  to  be  vain,  sir,  I  do  think,  sir,  as  how 
my  temper  be  the  smoother,  sir.  My  lady  will 
have  her  tirrets. 

Fro.  Ay,  thine  eyes  are  milder,  now  that  I  look 
again.  Hath  thy  lady  many  lovers  ? 

Ber.  Ay,  sir,  to  the  number  that  the  forest  hath 
birds ;  but  they  will  all  be  a-singing  o'  th'  same 
tune. 

Fro.  And  the  lady? 

Ber.  Why,  she  hath  had  mighty  love  for  some 
fourscore  and  ten,  but  hath  repented  her  at  the 
church  door. 

38 


Fro.  And  the  gallants  ? 

Ber.  Do  still  be  for  sighing  and  wooing. 

Fro.  Hang  me,  if  I  would  not  be  all  for  curs 
ing  and  swearing!  As  soon  would  I  tarry  a 
maid's  second  scorning  as  stay  for  a  wolf  to  bite 
me  twice. 

Ber.  Ay,  sir,  but  my  lady  hath  a  strange  some 
thing  i'  th'  very  curl  o'  her  eyelashes.  Some  say 
it  doth  not  proceed  from  heaven  ;  but  I  know  not. 
She  hath  had  more  wooing  and  less  winning  than 
any  lady  in  all  England.  Oft  will  she  say  to  me, 
"  Look  ye,  Bertha ;  marriage  is  not  for  me,  nor  I 
for  marriage,  lest  it  do  mightily  better  mine  es 
tate."  And  methinks  a  marriage  so  to  do  would 
needs  be  with  the  King  himself. 

Fro.  To  wed  a  king  is  to  better  lowliness  at 
the  cost  o'  peace.  Well,  well.  Thou  hast  a 
plump  arm.  I  suspect  thee  o'  one  other  resem 
blance  to  thy  mistress. 

Ber.  How,  sir  ? 

Fro.  Why,  i'  th'  matter  o'  wooers.  Ha !  wilt 
thou  be  hanging  thy  head  ? 

Ber.  La,  sir !  I  will  have  great  needs  o'  hear 
say  to  keep  me  discreet.  But  thy  supper,  sir,  F 
fecks,  I  was  sent  to  bid  thee  to  supper.  How 
hast  thou  twisted  me ! 

Fro.  An  thou'll  twist  me  thy  lips  for  a  kiss,  I'll 
ask  no  more.  Come  on !  Come  on !  I  do  hun 
ger  equally  for  kisses  and  for  venison.  [Exeunt.] 
39 


ACT  III 

SCENE  i. — A  Hall  in  OLGAR'S  Castle. 
[Enter  FROTHI.] 

Fro.  All  goes  as  I  did  fear.    He  hath  the  fever; 

She  in  her  golden  web  of  tresses  sits 

Like    some    bright    spider,  and   the    mesh    hath 
snared 

Him  and  his  honor.     It  is  now  two  moons 

Since  he  did  ride  from  Edgar  on  this  quest ; 

The  King  must  wax  impatient.      Oswald's  there 

To  urge  him  with  Suspicion's  venomed  spurs. 

Ah,  my  dear  lord,  there  is  some  spell  upon  thee. 

Would   I   could  break   it!      Lo,  they  come  to 
gether  ! 

Always  together  now!     Morn,  noon,  and  night. 

May  God  take  this  into  his  moulding  grasp ! 

[Exit.] 

[Enter  ELFREDA  and  ATHELWOLD.] 

Elf.  (casting  herself  down).  Sing  to  me,  Ath- 

elwold. 

Atb.  Nay,  give  me  grace, 

I'm  not  in  singing  temper.     All's  awry. 
I'd  make  thee  but  harsh,  jangling  music,  lady. 
Elf.  Why,  talk,  then. 
Atb.  On  what  subject  ? 

40 


Elf.  Of  thyself} 

That  doth  less  tire  me  than  all  other  topics. 
Of  thy  fair  self,  thy  battles  and  thy  voyages  ; 
Thy  exploits,  ventures,  both  by  land  and  sea  ; 
Of  all  thy  past,  thy  hatreds  and  thy  loves. 

Atb.    My   greatest    hatred   hath   been   hating 

Love. 
(Aside.)  How  hath  he  ta'en  revenge  upon  me ! 

Elf.  What? 

Didst    thou    say   something   to    thy   shoulder  ? 

Love  ? 
Why  hast  thou  hated  Love  ?     Methinks  Heaven 

formed  thee 
To  be  Love's  champion. 

Atb.  Not  I — not  I. 

Elf.  I  say  it.     Dost  thou  hear  ?     And  I  will 

say  it, 

Though  thou  dost  turn  from  love  to  hating  me. 
Atb.  It  were  as  one. 

Elf.  Why,  what  a  ravelled  mood ! 

Thy  humors'  threads  are  frayed  beyond  all  pa 
tience. 
Look,  sir — this  apple — wilt  thou  share  it  with 

me  ? 
Ath.  Nay,  nay.      Have  done   with    such   cool 

wantonings. 
Eat  not ;  it  vexes  me. 

Elf.  Why,  what  will  please  thee  ? 

Atb.  Thy  lips ! 
F  41 


Elf.  My  lord? 

Atb.  I  say  thy  lips  will  please  me. 

Wilt  yield  them  ? 

Elf.  Athelwold! 

Atb.  Ay,  feign,  feign,  feign. 

Thou  coulist  feign  purity  on  moonlight  nights. 

Elf.  Wilt  thou  insult  me  ? 

Atb.  Ah !  hare  done  with  feign  ing. 

Give  me  thy  lips — I  will  not  feign  to  kiss  them. 

Elf.  How  dost  thou  mean — I  feign  ? 

Atb.  Why,  that  thou  lovest  me ! 

Think'st  thou  I  know  not  how  thou  laugh  est, 

madam, 
When  I  am  turned  ?     Thou  hast  the  knack  o' 

laughing — 
And  with  thy  maid-servant. 

Elf.  I  laugh  at  thee  ? 

With  Bertha  ?     Athelwold ! 

Atb.  Well,  didst  thou  not ! 

Come,  no  more  feigning. 

Elf.  (passionately).  If  I  love  thee  not, 

Let  thy  sword  kiss  my  heart  as  it  were  wanton. 
Come,  sir  ! — thy  steel !     My  heart's  a  baggage — 

come! 
No  kiss  should  shame  it !     Come  ! — thy  sword — 

thy  sword ! 

Oh,  I  had  never  thought  to  tell  thee  of  it! 
Nay,  let  me  go, 

Atb.  I  will  not  let  thee  go. 

42 


Ay !  this  is  fate.     Why  move  a  finger?     Soft, 

Softly,  my  falcon !     Oh,  my  pretty  one! 

Thou  kuuiftAl  not  what  thou  dost.    There,  go — 

go— go! 
Elf'.  Why  wilt  thou   hide  thy    face?      Why 

must  I  go? 

Dost  thou  believe  me  ?     Hath  not  my  remaining 
To   bear   thy   scorn   proved   that  I  love   thee? 

Look! 
I  lore  thee. 

Atb.  Nay,  I  must  not  look.     Away ! 

Lay  not  thy  hand  on  me.     Wilt  thou  be  gone  ? 
Nay,  nay ;  I  meant  it  not.     Let  me  look  once, 
But  once,  and  then —     Thine  eyes!  thine  eyes! 

thine  eyes! 

Ah,  they  are  full  of  poison  to  the  brim ! 
Drink,  Honor — drink  and  die!     How  thou  dost 

look! 
Elf.  (breathing  hurriedly).  And  thou! — how 

thou  dost  eat  mine  eyes  with  thine! 
Alt.  Is  thy  soul  in  them  ? 
Elf.  Ay  j  and  my  heart,  too. 

A~.b.  Then  let  me  eat  them  also.     There's  no 

way 
But  that  to  happiness. 

Elf.  But  what  ? 

Alb.  To  yield 

Both  heart  and  soul  as  bribe  unto  grim  Fate. 
There  is  no  morsel  that  she  dearer  loves 
43 


Than  a  big  heart  served  up  with  honor  cold. 
Look  up.     No  faltering.     God's  eyes  for  thine ! 
They  could  make  heaven  of  hell  without  a  God. 
Say  that  thou  lovest  me. 

Elf.  I  love  thee. 

Ath.  Ah ! 

Again. 

Elf.      I  love  thee. 

Ath.  Now  again — with  eyes, 

With  lips,  with  arms,  with  body.      Come,  once 

more  ! 
We'll  say't  together — so — 

(Both.)  I  love  thee! 

God! 
Thou'rt  mine.     I  swear  it  by  His  vain -taken 

name. 

Mine  and  none  other's.     Mine  for  life,  for  death. 
Look  you — did  I  die  first,  to  find  you  false, 
My  burning  ghost  would  knaw  unto  your  mar 
row. 

Elf.  Ah,  thou  dost  hurt  me  ! 
Ath.  Didst  thou  heed  me  ?     Come, 

Kiss  me  again.     When  shall  we  wed  ? 

Elf.  To-morrow  ? 

Ath.  To-night. 

Elf.  To-night,  then.      At  what 

dost  thou  look  ? 

Ath.  (gazing  beyond  her,  but  still  embracing 
her).  Even  at  departing  Loyalty. 
44 


Elf,  (following    the    direction    of  his    eyes). 

Who's  there 
That  hath   so   strange  a  name  ?     I  cannot  see 

him. 
Is  it  some  beggar  ? 

Atb.  Ay  j  he  begs  for  grace. 

Elf.  Thou'rt  mocking. 

Ath.  Shall  I  let  Dame  Fate  outmock  me  ? 

Elf.  Look  not  so  far  away.      Dive   in  mine 
eyes. 

Atb.  What's  at  the  bottom  ?     Gold  ? 

Elf.  If  love  be  gold. 

Ath.  Nay ;  dross — when  love  doth  die  it  turns 

to  dross, 
As  men  to  rottenness. 

Elf.  What  words  are  these  ? 

Come,  I  will  close  thy  lips  (striving  to  coax  him). 

Atb.  (still  holding  her  oft").  Close  Conscience' 

lips. 
I  care  not  how  I  prate,  so  he  be  silent. 

Elf.  Thou  hast  strange  fancies. 

Ath.  (coldly).  Canst  thou  come  at  them  ? 

Elf.  Nay,  sir.     Nor  at  thy  love.     I  see  it  all. 
Thou  hast  beguiled  an  hour  with  mockery. 
I  will  be  gone,  sir,  as  thou  didst  desire. 

Ath.  Elfreda! 

Elf.  Oh,  what  pain  is  in  thy  voice ! 

Hast  thou  some  wound  I  know  not  of? 

Atb.  Ay,  child. 

45 


Elf.  Oh,  let  me  dress  it.    Let  me  comfort  thee. 
Death's  in  thy  face. 

Atb.  No,  sweetheart ;  in  my  heart. 

Well,  well  —  have   done.      Weep   not.      Come 

closer — come. 

Kiss  me.     Thine  arms.     Pain  is  the  only  coin 
Joy  doth  acknowledge.     Never  ask  to  know 
More  than  thou  knowest,  save  to-morrow,  dear, 
When  love  hath  grown  like  flowers  i'  trT  night. 
Come,  let  me  feel  thee.  [Exeunt.] 

[Enter  OSWALD.] 

Os-iu.  It  works !     It  works !     My  brew  doth 

work  in  truth. 

We'll  have  a  goodly  quaffing  by  the  horns 
Of  the  new  moon !     'Twere  worth  a  longer  jour 
ney 

To  hear  a  shorter  tale — that  'twere.     God's  me ! 
Had  I  as  many  bones  as  hath  a  graveyard, 
I'd  count  it  but  as  justness  did  all  ache 
Together,  an  I  rode  to  such  a  knowledge ! 
Ah !  here  he  comes  again — alone.     Fair  dreams, 
Fair  lord,  I   have  thee   in   my  prayers.     Soft — 

soft! 

I  must  move  softly.     I  will  back  o'  th'  instant 
Unto  my  jealous  mock-queen  with  this  news. 

[Exit.] 


46 


[Enter  ATHELWOLD.] 

Atb.  Is  this  to  be  alive  ?     Is  this  to  love  ? 
Would  I  were  dead  with  hating  life  and  love ! 
How  came  this  on  me  ? — on  me — Athelwold — 
Who  have  but  used  love's  name  to  tickle  mirth 
Or  lay  a  wager  ?     O  thou  monstrous  glutton, 
That  feed'st  on  honor,  pride,  truth,  fealty,  all 
Of  God  in  man !     Shall  men  still  call  thee  love, 
Mocking  that  god  whose  name  thou  hast  usurped  ? 
What  is  to  love  ?     Is't  to  outlive  all  peace, 
And  know  thyself  a  coward  to  the  core  ? 
Oh,  then,  Hate's  gentle  ;  Hate  is  honest ;  Hate 
Hath  been  untimely  born  and  missed  his  name. 
Hate  should  be  Love — Love,  Hate ;  yet  they  are 

twins ; 

For,  loving  one  thing,  we  do  hate  another, 
Perhaps  a  better.     Who  would  live  to  face 
Forsaken  duty,  look  upon  dead  pride, 
And  share  Fame's  mantle  with  Dishonor  ?    Nay, 
Let  me  fight  naked  at  the  gates  of  hell 
With  full-armed  Sin,  ere  I  do  fall  so  low! 
I  will  be  gone — I  will  be  quit  of  this. 
Frothi,  my  horse!     Froth i,  I  say,  my  horse! 
And  yet — her  eyes !     Here's  manhood  !  here  is 

valor  ! 

Here  is  a  king's  friend  worthy  of  a  king ! 
And  yet  her  eyes  —  her  eyes  —  her  eyes  —  her 

eyes — 

47 


They  are  two  flames — they've  burned  all  good  in 

me. 

Even  them  I  do  but  love  with  a  charred  soul, 
The  cinder  of  a  soul — a  star  gone  out. 
Had  he  not  been  a  tyrant —     Well,  'tis  sure 
He  hath  but  his  deserts  in  all  of  this — 
In  all  of  this  he  hath  but  his  deserts. 
And  yet  so  kind  a  friend,  so  just  a  king ! 
Ay,  conscience,  speak !    Arise  from  the  dead  past ; 
Howl  in  mine  ears  ere  I  be  deaf  with  wishing. 
Oh,  Edgar,  Edgar ! 

[Enter  ELFREDA.] 

Elf.  My  lord,  thy  wound  again  ?      Pray  thee 

be  wise. 
Why  didst  thou  leave  me  ?     Come,  here  is  my 

kerchief; 
Wilt  thou  not  be  advised? 

Atb.  Ay,  by  my  soul ; 

But  wisdom  is  above  me. 

Elf.  How? 

Atb.  In  heaven. 

Look  thou :  how  much  may  women  lack  in  honor 
Ere  they  confess  themselves  dishonorable  ? 

Elf.  I  know  not. 

Atb.  Verily  I  know  not  either. 

Elf.  Is  this  a  jest  ? 

Atb.  I'd  swear  to  it  in  the  dark. 

Give  me  thine  eyes.     I  think  thou  lovest  me. 
48 


Elf.  Thou  knowest  it. 

Ath.  How  many  other  men 

Have  shared  these  honors  with  me  ?     Art  thou 
honest  ? 

Elf.  My  lord,  thou  knowest  that  I  am. 

Ath.  Ay,  ay — 

Look  to  it,  then — see  that  I'm  not  deceived. 
I  am  a  man  gone  deep  in  recklessness, 
And  thee  the  rising  flood  may  also  drown. 
Swear  to  thy  truth. 

Elf.  I  am  afraid. 

Atb.  Of  me, 

Or  of  the  truth  ?     Come,  swear. 

Elf.  What— that  I  love  thee  ? 

Atb.  Ay,  swear  it. 

Elf.  I  do  swear  by  all  the  saints 

I  love  thee — love  thee.    Oh,  for  sweet  love's  sake, 
Look  not  so  harshly  on  me.    Have  I  vexed  thee  ? 

Atb.  Not  so.     Weep  not — I  love  thee  ;  but  be 

true — 

Be  true.     I  will  forgive  thee  anything 
So  thou  be  true.     Weep  not.      Dost  thou  not 

know 

Men's  minds  to  men  are  riddles  ?   How  shalt  thou, 
A  tender  maiden,  think  to  read  my  soul  ? 
It  were  but  grewsome  reading,  trust  me,  sweet. 
Still  do  we  hanker  for  what's  past  our  ken, 
Walking  with  open  eyes  against  the  dark. 
How  wouldst  thou  like  to  be  a  queen  ? 
G  49 


Elf.  A  queen  ? 

Atb.  Ay,  sweetheart.     How  if  I  were  King  of 

England  ? 
How  then  ?     Wouldst  love  me  more  ? 

Elf.  Nay  ;  but  a  queen — 

I  would  in  truth  that  thou  couldst  be  a  king  ! 

Atb.  Ha  !  dost  thou  ?     Wherefore  ? 

Elf.  Why,  I  would  be  queen. 

That  is,  I  think  so.    Wouldst  not  make  me  queen  ? 
Think  o'  me  in  a  crown  !     Why,  I  could  stare 
An  emperor  to  slavedom  ! 

Atb.  Softly. 

Elf.  Why, 

I'd  be  a  queen  o'  queens.     Nothing  should  daunt 

me. 

I'  faith,  I'd  be  familiar  with  my  sceptre 
As  nurse  with  walking-staff,  and  wear  my  crown 
As  'twere  a  sunbeam  fallen  on  my  head, 
So  lightly  would  I  wear  it.     Would,  in  truth, 
Thou  wert  a  king ! 

Atb.  I  see  that,  spite  o'  words, 

Thoudst  love  me  more. 

Elf.  Nay  ;  but  to  be  a  queen ! 

Why  didst  thou  think  it  ? 

Atb.  Probably,  my  sweet, 

Because  thou  look'st  like  one. 

Elf.  Thou  art  the  prince 

O'  flatterers,  if  not  the  King  of  England ! 
Do  I  look  so,  in  truth  ? 

So 


Atb.  Thou  dost  indeed. 

Where  is  thy  father  ? 

Elf.  Wouldst  thou  speak  with  him  ? 

Til  call  him. 

Atb.  Do   so,  sweeting  —  stay   for   this 

(kisses  her).  [Exit  ELFREDA.] 

What  devil  set  me  to't  ?     What  fiend  of  speech 
Possessed  me  that  I  named  the  King  to  her  ? 
Accursed  Fate,  how  dost  thou  scoff  at  me ! 
Yet,  I  was  sometime  honored  of  myself 
Ere   that   the   god  -  spark  was  with   self  extin 
guished, 

Quenched  by  the  rising  flood  of  passions  furi 
ous, 

O'er  which  its  guiding  light  made  clear  the  way. 
Now  all  is  dark.     I  know  not  on  what  rock 
This  life  of  mine  will  split. 

[Enter  OLGAR.] 

Ah,  dear  my  lord, 
Can  I  have  word  with  thee  ? 

Olg.  Ay,  that  thou  canst. 

What  is  it  ?     No  evil  news  from  court  ? 

Atb.  My  lord, 

I  love  thy  daughter,  and  would  wed  with  her. 

Olg.  Well  come  atj    Roundly  spoken !    Thou 

dost  know  how  to  approach  a  difficulty's  quills  j 

how  to  settle  this  porcupine  conjecture.     Stanch- 

ly  said.     Thou  hast  gone  up  in  my  estimation ; 

51 


like  a  high  tide  on  the  face  of  a  rock,  thou  hast 
left  thy  mark.  Am  I  first  in  this  matter  ? 

Atb.  The  Lady  Elfreda  knows  that  beyond 
limits  I  do  love  her. 

Olg.  Well,  then — well,  then — well,  then. 

Ath.  I  would  have  thy  permission  to  wed  with 
her. 

Olg.  As  thou  hast  said.     Well  ? 

Atb.  And  shortly. 

Olg.  That,  too.     Well? 

Atb.  Naught  remains  but  that  I  kneel  to  thank 
thee  and  receive  thy  blessing. 

Olg.  I  know  thou  wilt  make  a  good  hus 
band. 

Atb.  In  what  respect,  my  lord  ? 

Olg.  Why,  thou  art  brave  enough  to  keep  thy 
wife  gentle,  and  gentle  enough  to  teach  her  to 
be  brave.  Thou  art  not  selfish,  as  I  have  no 
ticed  by  thy  sittings  f  th'  sun  (when  ye  twain 
have  shared  the  seat  beneath  the  pear-tree),  that 
she  might  have  greater  shadow.  That  thou  dost 
fear  God  is  written  on  thy  brow ;  and  that  thou 
dost  love  the  lass  is  written  in  thine  eyes.  More 
over,  by  the  cleanness  o1  the  latter  I  do  know 
that  thou  hast  ne'er  been  given  to  much  wine- 
bibbing  or  lolling  wi'  women.  Therefore  I  do 
tell  thee  again  that  my  daughter  is  thine  when 
thou  shalt  claim  her,  and  that  my  good-will  was 
thine  ere  thou  didst  ask  for  it.  Go  to !  go  to ! 
52 


No  words.     Thou  may'st  treat  me  to  a  deed  or 

two  by-and-by.  [Exit  OLGAR.] 

Atb.  His  blessing  on  my  falseness.     Well,  let 

be. 

It  is  a  creed  more  easy  than  'tis  easing. 
Oh,  how  a  treachery  to  any  one 
Doth  fill  the  heart,  crowding  all  pleasures  out ! 
And  I  must  face  him  ;  I  must  meet  his  eyes ; 
•Nay,  I  must  lie  to  him.     O  yesterday, 
Fd  purchase  thee  with  all  my  life's  to-morrows ! 

[Exit.] 

SCENE  z. — A  Room.   ELFREDA  and  her  NURSE. 

Elf.  But  I  do  love  him,  nurse.    Thou  dost  not 

know 
How  I  do  love  him ! 

Nur.  Tell  me  of  it,  then. 

Elf.  How  can  I  tell  thee  ?     Thou  hast  loved  j 

tell  me, 
How  didst  thou  love  ?     Didst  thou  send  sleep 

away 

That  thou  might'st  recollect  his  kisses,  nurse, 
When  it  was  dark  ?     Didst  thou  e'er  kiss  thy 

arm 
That  he  had  kissed  it  ?      Didst  thou  love  his 

doublet — 

The  very  manner  of  his  shoulder-cloak — 
His   sword  —  his   dagger  —  ay,  his   shoes  —  his 
hat? 

53 


Didst  thou  so  love  thy  love  ?     Come,  tell  me, 
nurse. 

Nur.  I  think  'twas  different.     I  did  wash  his 

clothes, 
Where  thou  hadst  loved  them. 

Elf.  Oh,  thy  dusty  mind ! 

Years  crumbling  over  thee  have  smirched  thy 

fancy 

To  one  pale  blur.     Canst  thou  not  talk  of  love 
As  I  would  hear  thee  ?     Come !  how  did  he  kiss 

thee? 
Loudly,  I'll  warrant. 

Nur.  Ay,  a  smacked  me  well ; 

A  was  no  kiss-slicer ;  a  gave  'em  whole. 

Elf.  Go  to !     A  kiss  should  sound  no  more, 

good  nurse, 

Than  when  two  clouds  do  melt  into  each  other, 
So  melt  dear  loving  lips  in  kissing,  nurse. 
There's  more  of  art  than  instinct  in  this  kissing. 
Be  sure  o'  that. 

Nur.  La !  where  dost  get  such  wisdom  ? 

Elf.  Out  of  the  darkness  when  my  mind  is  light. 
Thou  ne'er  shalt  see  so  plain  the  unseen  world 
As  when  the  actual  world  is  sunless,  nurse. 
Nurse,  wilt  thou  weep  when  I  am  wedded  ? 

Nur.  Nay — 

To  bring  my  lamb  ill  luck  ?     Not  I ! 

Elf.  Why,  then, 

What  wilt  thou  ?     Wilt  thou  laugh  ? 
54 


Nur.  Nor  laugh,  my  lamb. 

That  were  unseemly  as  to  weep.     Content  thee, 
I'll  bear  me  decently. 

Elf.  Nurse,  what  wouldst  say 

Were  he  a  king  ? 

Nur.  La !  how  thou  babblest,  honey ! 

Elf.  But  think — I'd  be  a  queen !   Now  as  I  speak 
I  feel  my  crown's  sharp  gold  upon  my  head. 
To  be  a  queen  ! — the  Queen  of  England — ha ! 
To    have    Death    for    my    henchman.     Listen, 

nurse, 

Did  any  so  much  as  offend  e'en  thee, 
I'd  straightway  proffer  thee  his  stupid  head 
For  ball  to  wind'thy  yarn  on  ! 

Nur.  Bloody  talk ! 

Cease,  honey,  cease  ;  I  like  not  such  wild  talk. 

Elf.  Ay,  but  to  be  a  queen ! 

Nur.  Why,  go  to,  heart ! 

Thou'rt  different.     What's  thy  mood  ? 

Elf.  Why,  all  for  power. 

O  that  I  were  the  hewer  of  my  fate ! 
Then  should  be  constellations  born  for  me — 
Well,  well,  but  I  do  love  him. 

Nur.  There,  that's  well ; 

Let  kings  and  queens  alone,  and  talk  of  love. 

E If.  Yet  one  might  love  a  king.    Hark !  I  am 
called.  [Rushes  out.] 

Nur.  Ah,  well-a-day !     I  dread  these  clashing 
moods. 

55 


SCENE  3. — ATHELWOLD  leaning  at  a  table ; 
FROTHI  at  his  side. 

Ath,  Sing,  boy !  give  out  that  voice  of  thine, 
which  is  as  strange  a  thing  in  thy  short  body  as 
would  be  a  great  thought  in  a  little  mind.  A 
light  song,  neither  of  war  nor  of  love.  Canst 
thou  sing  such  ? 

Fro.  Ay,  master ;  there  be  a  song  o'  a  gnat, 
Which  is  in  great  favor  with  the  cockchafers. 
So: 

"  Ho  !  gnat  on  a  thistle-puff,  whither  away  ? 

Where  to,  little  fay  ? 

I  am  off  to  the  East,  where  the  God  of  the 
Day 

Still  slumbers,  they  say. 
But  what  will  you  do  for  to  eat  and  to  drink 

Over  there,  Imp  o'  Ink  ? 

Why,  Balder's  red  blood,  I  will  drink  it  like 
wine, 

Mistress  mine, 

And  the  syllabub  clouds  that  the   elfins   do 
spatter 

On  heaven's  blue  platter, 
I  will  breakfast  on  them.    But  anon  I  must  fly, 
So  good-luck,  so  good-bye, 
To  thee  and  to  thine, 
Mistress  mine !" 
56 


Atb.  Well  sung,  gnat  on  a  thistle-puff;  I  say 
well  sung,  Imp  o'  Ink.  When  wrotest  that  ode 
to  thyself,  Sir  Gleeman  ? 

Fro.  Master,  it  hath  been  told  how  that  an  elf 
o'  light  wrote  that  with  his  finger  in  the  dust  on 
a  grass-blade. 

Ath.  Away  with  thee !  Here  comes  the  Lady — 

Fro.  How,  master  ?     The  lady  i'  th'  song  ? 

Ath.  No,  poppet  ;    the   Lady   Elfreda.      And 
'ware  lest  thy  skin  suffer  for  thy  soul's  good. 
Off  with  thee.  [Exit  FROTHI.] 

[Enter  ELFREDA.] 

Sweet  one,  thou  art  most  welcome. 

Elf.  Ay,  my  lord  ? 

Ath.  Ay,  for  I  would  a  long  half-hour  with 

thee 
Of  farewell  kisses. 

Elf.  How !     Farewell  ? 

Ath.  Ev'n  so. 

I  must  without  delay  entreat  the  King 
To  give  permission  for  our  marriage. 

Elf.  Nay, 

Go  not  to-day — to-morrow.     Wilt  thou  go  ? 
Ath.  I  must,  my  sweet.     And  wilt  thou  miss 

me,  then  ? 
Elf.  I'll  take  some  drug,  and  sleep  till  thou  art 

back. 
Why  must  thou  go  ? 

H  57 


Ath.  It  is  a  courtesy 

I  owe  my  King.     Tempt  me  no  more,  fair  blos 
som. 
One  kiss ;   one  more.     Oh,  all  that's  sweet  in 

spring 

Lives  in  thy  breath !    I  would  thou  wert  my  wife, 
To  go  with  me. 

Elf.  Oh,  would  I  were,  beloved ! 

Leave  me  thy  glove,  one  which  thy  hand  hath 

shaped ; 

I'll  think  thy  hand  is  in  it  when  'tis  dark. 
Would  thou  hadst  gone  and  come !     How  many 

days 
Divide  us  from  our  day  of  days  ? 

Ath.  But  two. 

I'll  founder  twenty  horses,  dear,  my  love, 
Ere  I  will  disappoint  thee. 

Elf.  Oh,  make  haste  ; 

And  let  me  have  a  lock  of  thy  sweet  hair 
To  weave  into  my  wedding  gown.     Is't  yes  ? 

Ath.  Why,  thou  shalt  clip  me  bare  as  any  monk, 
If 't  pleasure  thee.     And  thou  dost  love  me  ? 

Elf.  Ay, 

Out  of  all  order.     I  am  mad  o'  love, 
My  warrior,  my  lord,  my  husband — king. 

Ath.  (violently,  almost  fiercely).  Not  that! 

Elf,  How  thou  didst  startle  me ! 

Not  what  ? 
Thou  wert  so  rough. 

58 


Ath.  Not  that,  not  that,  I  say. 

Dost  hear  ?     Not  that. 

Elf.  Tell  me  of  what  thou  speakest. 

Ath.  Why,  of  that  word  thou  call'st  me. 
Elf.  Warrior  ? 

Ath.  No,  no ;  thou  knowest.  Trifle  not.    Thou 

knowest 

That  last  name  thou  didst  call  me.  So,  so,  so. 
Kiss  me,  forgive  me,  heed  me  not.  Once  more 
Thine  arms  about  my  neck ;  once  more ;  once 

more. 
Give  me   thy   troth   again.      Swear   thou'lt   be 

true. 

Elf.  I  swear  it. 

Ath.  It  is  written.     Recollect 

It  is  recorded.     Now  for  all — farewell.       [Exit.] 
Elf.  Why  should  he  tremble  when  I  call  him 

king? 
There's   something  here   beyond  me.      Let   me 

see. 

Til  put  it  by ;  I  will  not  think  on  it. 
I'm  glad  his  kisses  stir  me.     Why,  i'  faith, 
Should   that  one  word  so   harry  him  ?      Well, 

well! 

He  hath  the  sweetest  eyes  !     So  deep  a  blue 
Should  almost  dye  his  tears.     The  sweetest  lips ! 
He  would  be  perfect  if  he  were — a  king. 
59 


ACT  IV 

SCENE  i.  —  A  Room  in  the  Palace.      EDGAR 
seated  moodily.     ELFLEDA  at  his  feet. 

Elfl.  Sire,  shall  I  sing  to  thee  ? 

Ed.  (mutteringly  to  himself).  There  hath  been 

time 

To  woo  ten  maidens  since  he  left  me.     Nay, 
Nay,  not  a  note.     Thou'rt  worse  to  chirp  than 

birds 
At  mating- time.     (To  himself.)  He  hath  been 

wounded,  sure — 

Some  dire  mischance  hath  fallen,  or  perhaps 
He  thinks  to  pay  me  for  my  humor.  Well, 
We'll  see. 

Elfl.  I  have  a  song  of  battle,  sire, 

Wherein  words  roar  along  the  winding  lines 
As  horsemen  pelt  along  a  smoking  road. 
I've  never  sung  it. 

Ed.  Ay,  then,  never  do  ! 

Wilt  let  me  be  ?      ( To  himself. )  One  day  o' 

grace,  and  then — 
Then — an  he  comes  not — when  he  comes — 

Elfl.  (coaxingly).  Goto! 

I  know  thou'dst  have  me  sing. 

Ed.  I'll  have  thee  prisoned 

An  thou  dost  further  irk  me.     Go !  thy  jewels ! 
60 


Go  bind  thy  hair !     Go  tang  thy  bracelets  !     Go  ! 

Do  anything  save  speak  to  me  again  ! 

(To  himself.)  'Tis  in  my  mind  that  he  will  come 

to-day ; 
I  dreamt  of  him  last  night. 

[Angrily  to  ELFLEDA,  who  fingers  his  robe.] 
What !  dost  thou  pluck  me  ? 
Away! 

Elfl.      There  is  a  sound  of  horses'  hoofs — 
Ed.  Where,  linnet,  where  ? 
Elfl.  Why,  in  my  unsung  song. 

Ed.  Have  at  thee ! 

[Throws  one  of  his  bracelets  at  her.] 
There — take  that,  and  get  thee  gone  ! 
Elfl.  (haughtily  and  with  anger).   Hurled  fa 
vors  are  more  vile  than  proffered  slights. 
Keep  thou  thy  gold — I'll  keep  my  dignity. 

[Exit.] 

Ed.  (looking  after  her,  musingly).  There's  some 
thing  in  the  jade  preserves  my  liking, 
Yet  she  doth  try  me.     Now,  an  he  come  not 
To-morrow —   Let  me  see — 'twill  be  two  moons, 
And  this  one's  far  awane.     Now  let  me  see! 

[Enter  OSWALD.] 

Ha!  Oswald. 

Os--w.  Sire,  thy  recreant  knight  is  come ! 

He  doth  but  stay  to  freshen  his  attire 
Ere  he  doth  wait  upon  your  Majesty. 
61 


Ed.  Bid  him  come  hither  as  he  is.     Stay,  Os 
wald. 
How  looks  he  ? 

OS-TV.  Why,  not  as  your  Majesty  ! 

His   brow   is   smooth,  his   eyes   are   lined  with 

smiles, 

He  doth  comport  him  blithely. 
Ed.  Yea  ? 

Osnv.  Even  so — 

As  though  his  thoughts  fed  sweetly  on  a  past 
Known  only  to  himself. 

Ed.  Thou  never  likedst  him  ! 

Osnv.    Oh,  him,  my    lord,  himself   I   always 

liked. 

It  was  his  manner  unto  thee  that  galled  me. 
Ed.  Well,  go,  and  bid  him  hither. 

[Exit  OSWALD.] 
O'  my  word, 

The  priest  in  him  hath  murdered  a  good  knight. 
But  he  did  e'er  hate  Athelwold.     Ay,  ay, 
For  all  he  saith  not,  it  is  plain  as  drinking. 

[Enter  ATHELWOLD.] 

Ah,  friend,  good  greeting.     Why,  thou'rt  some 
what  pale! 
How's  this  ?     Thy  brow  is  drawn.     I  have  been 

told 
Thou  wert  in  different  temper  ? 

Atb.  Ay,  my  liege  ? 

62 


Ed,  Nay,  no  "  my  lieges  " — none  o'  that.  Come 

on, 

Give  me  thy  hands,  and  draw  that  inner  veil 
Which  doth  o'erhang  thine  eyes.     What  news  ? 

Atb.  Indeed, 

Such  news  hath  been  a  heavy  weight  to  carry. 

Ed.  How !     Heavy  ? 

Atb.  Ay ! 

Ed,  In  what  way  ?     Is  slie  dead  ? 

Atb.  No  ;  that  were  better. 

Ed.  Better  ? 

Atb.  (with  a  sudden  effort).  Ay!     Know,  Ed 
gar, 

That  this  so  vaunted  paragon  of  beauty 
Hath  nothing  but  her  father's  lands  and  state 
To  cry  her  fair. 

Ed.  Is  she  not  beautiful  ? 

Atb.  No,  as  I  live !     A  little,  pale-faced  girl, 
Whose  gold  doth  bless  her  purse  and  not  her 
head. 

Ed.  Not  beautiful  ? 

Ath.  Not  so  much  beauty,  sire, 

As  would  make  full  the  pocket  of  thine  eye. 

Ed.  That's  strange — that's  very  strange  !    Not 
beautiful  ? 

Atb.  All  that  is  hers  of  beauty,  sire,  could  hide 
Beneath  a  freckle. 

Ed.  Not  a  fair  shape,  even  ? 

Atb.  A  church  tower  hath  more  roundness, 
63 


Ed.  What !  in  all- 

in  all  uncomely  ? 

Ath.  Ay,  to  the  very  quirking  of  her  eyebrows. 

Ed.    How  by  report   some   women    do   seem 

beauties, 
Whose  grandmothers,  perhaps,  were  fairly  nosed! 

Ath.  A  woman's  fair  according  to  her  gold. 

Ed.  (anxiously).  Thou'rt  sure  thou  saw'st  her? 

None  was  palmed  on  thee  ? 
Women  are  apt  contenders  in  such  games. 

Atb.  It  was  the  lady's  self  I  saw. 

Ed.  Thou'rt  sure  ? 

How  art  thou   certain  ?      By  what    didst   thou 
know  ? 

Ath.  By  certain  marks  report  had  given  her — 
A  mole  that  kissed  her  upper  lip  ;  a  vein 
That  spilt  its  tender  blue  upon  her  eyelid 
As  though  the  cunning  hand  that  dyed  her  eyes 
Had  slipped  for  joy  of  its  own  work. 

Ed.  (suspiciously).  For  joy  ? 

Ath.  Did  I  say  joy  ? 

Ed.  Ay. 

Ath.  It  was  scorn  I  meant. 

Ed.  Well,  on. 

Ath.  She  hath  such  little  spots  of  white 

Upon  her  finger-nails  as  foam  doth  leave 
On  stranded  shells. 

Ed.  (more  suspiciously).  That  sounds  not  so 
uncomely. 

64 


Atb.  Thou  shouldst  but  see  it ! 

Ed,  Well,  go  on. 

Ath.  And  last — 

Upon  her  shoulder  is  a  tiny  redness 
Which  could  be  compassed  by  the  pretty  circles 
That  paint  a  moth's  wing.      Such   a  mark  as 

though 

Nature,  completing  all,  had  laid  a  kiss 
Upon  her  perfect  work. 

Ed.  (furiously).  Dost  dare  to  mock  me  ? 

Atb.  Mock  thee  ? 

Ed.  Ay,  mock  me.     Dost  thou  dare  to  do  it  ? 

Ath.  I  do  not  mock  thee. 

Ed.  Then  what  didst  thou  mean 

When  thou  didst  say  "upon  her  perfect  work?" 

Ath.  Oh,  'twas  in  mockery,  but  not  of  thee. 

Ed.  Of  what  then  ? 

Ath.  (with  an  effort).   Of  the  one  I  did  de 
scribe. 

Ed.  (sullenly).  Jests  with  my  humor  do  as  ill 

accord 

As  gay-hued  flowers  with  the  dead.  I  wonder 
That  thou  hast  ta'en  that  turn  with  me  to-day, 
Of  all  days. 

Ath.  I  will  jest  no  more. 

Ed.  (in  part  appeased).  Thou'rt  wise 

Above  most  jesters,  who  will  seldom  stop 
Until  that  anger  trips  their  heels.     But  speak ; 
How  earnest  thou  so  to  lag  ? 
65 


Atb.  I  fell  asleep 

While  riding  slowly — a  dear  trick  o'  mine — 
And  also  from  my  horse,  thus  broke  my  leg, 
Which  same  is  yet  an  enemy  to  speed. 

Ed.  (suspiciously).  Hum ! 

Atb.  Didst  thou  speak  ? 

Ed.  (controlling  himself).       But  inwardly. 

Atb-  In  truth, 

Would  thou  hadst  gone  thyself. 

Ed.  For  why  ? 

Atb.  For  that 

Thou  mightst  have  been  thyselfs   own   disap- 

pointer. 

It  was  a  sorry  office,  Edgar — ay, 
From  first  to  last,  and  makes  me  hug  my  sins 
To  know  Heaven  cannot   honor   me   with    er 
rands  ! 

Ed.  (somewhat  ashamed  of  his  doubts).  Tut! 
I  am  not  ungrateful. 

Atb.  Then  methinks 

Ingratitude  hath  been  baptized  again 
Since  my  departure.     Give  his  latest  name. 
What!  I  do  go  on  this  soul-irking  mission, 
Ride  day  and  night,  endure  in  divers  ways, 
Haste  back  in  spite  Q  pain  and  storms,  and  then 
Am  suppered  on  a  frown  ?     Oh,  it  is  well ! — 
Most  well,  most  princely ! 

Ed.  (suddenly  coming  forward).  Tut !    I'll  bear 
with  thee. 

66 


Let's  make  a  duty  of  forgetting.     More ! 
Report  is  killed,  and  stuffed  with  his  own  lies. 
We'll  roast  him  at  the  fire  o1  friendship.     Come! 

[Exeunt.] 

[Enter  SIGEBERT  and  FROTHI.] 

Sig.  She's  uncomely,  you  say  ? 

Fro.  As  what's  left  o'  my  great-grandam. 

Sig.  Why,  how,  then,  came  all  these  reports  of 
her  beauty  ? 

Fro.  Along  the  great  highway  where  the  Le- 
vite,  Falsehood,  doth  pass  Truth  by  on  the  other 
side.  She  hath  moneys.  Gold  is  a  specific  for 
the  removal  o'  homeliness.  For  each  gold  piece 
a  maid  getteth  there  doth  disappear  a  freckle. 
Four  hundred  marks  will  make  a  Grecian  nose 
out  o'  a  pig's  snout.  Thou  wilt  find  that  a  big 
mouth  doth  shrink  with  wealth,  like  a  doublet 
with  washing.  Thou  shalt  find  old  age  double 
on  herself  like  a  hare,  do  thou  but  line  her  warren 
with  gold. 

Sig.  But  it  is  so  generally  accredited.  There 
is  no  man  in  England  but  hath  heard  of  it.  'Tis 
the  fifth  gospel.  Be  serious.  The  lady  is  plain  ? 

Fro.  As  thine  own  nose. 

Sig.  Go  to !     Is  she  cramped  in  stature  ? 

Fro.  Thou  wouldst  take  me  for  a  giant  an  we 
walked  together.  Yet  she  is  so  tricked  out  in 
an  elaborate  ugliness  that,  cut  in  simple  fash- 
67 


ion,  'twould  amply  gown  a  hundred  fair -sized 
women. 

Sig.  I  cannot  get  it  from  my  head  that  there 
hath  been  foul  play. 

Fro.  Then  get  it  by  thy  heart  that  there  hath 
not. 

Sig.  Thou  sawest  her  ? 

Fro.  Why,  she  was  the  pattern  whereby  my 
dreams  were  cut  for  a  sennight,  and  every  night 
would  I  wake  the  scullion  at  my  bed's  foot  with 
crying  out  to  be  saved  from  torment. 

Sig.  Still,  I  like  it  not. 

Fro.  Thou  wouldst  like  it  less  didst  thou  see 
her. 

Sig.  I  see  by  the  roving  i'  thine  eyes  that  thou 
art  hungry.  Come,  and  we  will  crack  a  quart  of 
ale  and  this  problem  together. 

Fro.  I'm  with  you.  [Exeunt.] 

[Enter  ATHELWOLD.] 

Atb.  I  cannot  bear  his  eyes.     I'll  tell  him  all, 
From  start  to  finish.     He  shall  go  with  me 
Into  the  very  byways  of  my  sin. 
Yea,  by  great  God,  though  I  do  lose  his  friend 
ship, 

I'll  be  friends  with  myself — not  one  hour  more 
Will  I  endure  mine  own  soul's  scorning.     Yet, 
To  lose  her  were  to  lose  the  way  to  heaven. 
Heaven  ?     What  is  heaven  but  a  priestly  bait 
68 


To  lure  us  to  their  ends,  when  that  hell's  whip 
Doth  fail  to  lash  us  to  'em  ?     Ay,  again — 
And  who  hath  not  some  unpronounced  charm 
That  would  make  swing  the  opposite  poles  of  life 
And  fasten  heaven  on  hell's  foundation  ?     Out! 
What  am  I  who  doth  rail  against  the  fate 
That  binds  mankind  ?     The  atom  of  an  atom, 
Particle  of  this  particle  the  earth, 
That  with  its  million  kindred  worlds  doth  spin 
Like  motes  within  the  universal  light. 
What  if  I  sin — am  lost — do  crack  my  life 
Against  the  gateless  walls  of  Fate's  decree  ? 
Is  the  world  fouler  for  a  gnat's  corpse  ?     Nay — 
The  ocean — is  it  shallower  for  the  drop 
It  leaves  upon  a  blade  of  grass  ?     And  yet 
To  meet  his  eyes — to  feel  his  hand — to  listen 
Unto  his  words  of  trust — O  God !  O  God ! 
I  walk  unworthily  the  red-hot  ploughshares, 
And  am  unto  my  spirit's  marrow  scorched ! 

[Enter  OSWALD.] 

OS-TV.  Ahem ! 

Ath.  (coldly).  Sir,  didst  thou  call  me  ? 

OS-TV.  Who— I  ? 

Ath.  Yes. 

Didst  thou  not  speak  ? 

OS-TV.  Not  I. 

Ath.  Thou  mad'st  some  sound, 

As  if  to  call  my  notice. 

69 


OS-TV.  Thoughts,  my  lord. 

Mayhap  I  coughed — I  have  a  hoarseness  lately. 

Atb.  (contemptuously).  Ay,  very  lately — since 
an  hour,  I  think. 

OS-TV.  What  will  your  lordship  come  at  ? 

Atb.  The  conclusion — 

OS-TV.  Well,  sir? 

Ath.  (with  a  sneer).  That  thou'rt  most  apt  at 

catching  cold. 
Give  way ! 

Os'W.     My  lord  ? 

Atb.  Give  way !  I  tell  thee,  monk  ; 

It  is  my  humor  to  ride  forth. 

OS-TV.  My  lord, 

I  venture  to  intrude  upon  your  lordship, 
To  stay  your  lordship  for  a  moment  longer. 
IVe  something  to  return  your  gracious  lordship. 
Even  this. 

[Stretches  out  a  long  golden  hair  between 
his  fingers.] 

Ath.          Dost  thou  dare  jest  with  Athelwold  ? 

Osiv.   Nay,  o'  my  word,  no  jest.     As  I  am 

true, 

It  is  the  finest  thread  o'  thrice-spun  gold, 
The  daintiest  mimic  of  the  spider's  floss, 
Spun  by  old  Earth  from  out  her  golden  entrails, 
That  e'er  I  set  mine  eyes  on. 

Atb.  What  dost  speak  ? 

'Ware  how  thou  troublest  me. 
70 


Os-iv.  Why,  sure,  my  lord, 

Thou  wouldst  not  have  me  keep  thy  gold  ? 

Atb.  What  gold  ? 

No  mummery.     Answer. 

Os=w.  I  will  give  it  thee. 

[Winds  it  with  a  quick  gesture  around  and 

around  ATHELWOLD'S  fingers.] 
Atb.  Ah,  dog  ?     Thou'lt  do  it.    Thou'lt  make 

sport  of  me  ? 
Thou  wilt?     Thou  wilt?     Ay,  do  it!     Do  it, 

then, 

Pitiful  mongrel !     Have  I  broken  thy  back  ? 
I  hope  so.  [Exit  ATHELWOLD.] 

OS-TV,  (getting  with  difficulty  to  his  feet).  May 

thou  be  thrice  damned  for  this  ! 
God's  me  !  I  am  in  pieces.     Oh,  thou  upstart ! 
Dog,  am  I  ?     Ay,  then.     Dog,  then.    And  more 

sure 
Upon  the  scent  than  e'er  thou  dreamest. 

[Exit.] 
[Enter  EDGAR.] 

Ed.  I  have  much  wronged  myself  in  wronging 

him. 

The  pulse  o'  th'  time  beats  to  a  feverish  measure, 
And  men  draw  in  contagion  with  their  creeds 
As  babes  the  germs  o'  character  with  their  milk. 
Suspicion  is  by  nature  vagabond, 
And  oft  doth  change  his  house.     From  Oswald's 

breast 


He  crept  to  my  protection.     He  hath  tricks 
Of  voice  and  gesture  that  are  burs  for  sticking. 
I  was  more  full  of  them  than  sheep-dog's  coat 
With  actual  bristles.     I  am  glad,  in  truth, 
To   find    my  faith    again,  though  't   hath    been 

rained  on, 

And  vow  to  wear  it  ever  T  the  place 
Of  more  eye-gladdening  but  less  sure-woven  gar 
ments. 
The  man  himself! 

[Enter  ATHELWOLD  with  head  down  as  though 
brooding.] 

Friend,  why  so  heavily  ? 
Ath.  (starting).  Thou,  Edgar? 
Ed.  Ay,  myself;  this  is  well  met. 

I  have  good  news  for  thee.     First,  there  is  this : 
I  am  unsaddled  of  my  spleen,  good  comrade, 
And  wax  more  light-heeled  than  a  colt  with  joy 
To  think  myself  and  England  still  are  queenless. 
Smile  I  not,  sir,  unweddedly  ?     Why,  look  you, 
The  letter  o'  this  law  doth  suit  me  well, 
And  I  find  "quean"  with  an  "a"  more  to  my 

liking 
Than  "  queen  "  with  an  "  e." 

Atb.  Yet,  I  am  sorry  for't. 

Ed.    Cheer,   cheer!      'Twas    not   thy   doing. 

Shall  we  ride 
A-hawking  ?     Ho,  there ! 
72 


Ath.  Nay,  I  would  suggest 

Some  serious  matters  to  your  Majesty. 

Ed.  My  Majesty  forbids  that  term  ;  to  thee 
I  am  but  Edgar,  and  my  crown  a  circle, 
Merely  a  circle,  with  no  further  hint 
Of  meaning  than  that  to  be  circular 
Is  to  be  round. 

Ath.  What  I  would  say  to  thee 

Is  this :  Though  Olgar's  daughter  hath  indeed 
So  little  of  the  bounty  Nature  gives, 
Yet  is  she  rich  in  that  which  men  do  filch 
From  Nature.     I,  as  thou  dost  know,  am  irked 
With  owing.     Were  it  not  a  crafty  stroke 
To  ask  this  maiden's  hand  in  marriage,  sir, 
Even  for  myself?     No — I  will  not  think  on't. 
Her  memory  comes  upon  me  with  a  crash. 
Come!     Let  us  go  a-hawking.     I  would  rather 
Owe  the  gold-bearing  tree  of  Grecian  fable 
His   whole   year's  fruit  than   be   her  debtor  in 

love 
Even  for  a  moment.     Let's  a-hawking — 

Ed.  Soft  you ; 

This  hath  mine  ear. 

Ath.  (wildly).  Ay,  but  thou  hast  not  seen  her. 
Why,  the  mere  memory  of  her  lips,  my  friend, 
Is  one  with  madness. 

Ed.  Well,  well.     Let  me  see. 

Ath.  Ay,  couldst  thou  see  j  but  come  on — I'm 
amort 
K  73 


With  thinking  on  it.     Then   her  eyes  —  sweet 

saints ! 
Couldst  thou  but  picture  them  ! 

Ed.  Is  she  so  vile  ? 

Atb.  (dazedly).  So  vile  ? 

Ed.  Ay,  saidst  thou  not  ? 

Ath.  (recovering  himself).  Oh,  ay,  indeed. 

I  did  but  wonder  that  thou  questionedst  me. 
Most  vile — most  vile — most  vile. 

Ed.  Thou  sayst  it  sadly. 

Atb.  Yea,  doth  it  not  seem  sad  how  ugly  maids 
Are  friends  with  Mammon  ?     Ho,  there  !     Ho, 

there  !     Ho ! 
King  Edgar's  falcons ! 

Ed.  Not  so  fast,  good  friend. 

I  bulge  with  this  idea — give  it  again, 
More  lengthily. 

Ath.  Pray  you,  forget  it. 

Ed.  Nay, 

'Tis  a  sound  plan,  a  sound  plan,  Athelwold. 
Come,  put  up  with  her  lips  and  eyes.     Come, 

now ! 
Canst  thou  not  woo  her  i'  th'  dark  ? 

Ath.  Oh,  please  you, 

I'm  sorry  that  I  spoke ;  giv't  no  more  thought 
Than  had  I  sneezed,  or  coughed,  or  torn  my 

cloak. 

Let  me  forget  what  ought  to  be  forgotten. 
Wilt  thou  thy  gloves  ? 

74 


Ed.  I  tell  thee  thou'rt  a  fool 

An  thou  dost  not  to  pocket  with  this  plan. 
Why,  let  her  wear  a  mask,  go  always  veiled, 
Keep  to  her  own  apartments — anything — 
So  we  do  see  the  glimmer  of  her  gold. 
Now,  be  advised.     Nay,  I  command  thee. 

Atb.  Soft, 

Soft,  soft  ;  remember  thou'st  laid  by  thy  king- 
hood 

While  we're  together.     Is't  a  friendly  office 
To  sell  thy  friend  for  so  much  coinage  ? 

Ed.  Nay, 

But  thine  own  prospects — thine  own  ease ! 

Atb.  Pah  !  prospects ! 

To  get  mine  armor  dented  honestly, 
Owe  all  men  but  my  King,  and  die  ere  age 
Hath  set  my  wits  to  wagging  with  my  chin — 
These  are  my  aspirations.     I've  one  other. 

Ed.  And  that  ?     Come  !  give  me  word — hast 
en  !     And  that  ? 

Atb.  Is  to  be  put  complete  into  my  grave, 
Nor  leave  a  child  to  dare  the  possible. 

Ed.  Go  to !     Go  to  ! 

Atb.  Ay,  Edgar,  thou  mayst  laugh, 

But  I  am  earnest  in  this  thing.     'Tis  writ 
That  children  shall  their  parents  honor.     Yea, 
And  I  do  tell  thee,  parents  owe  as  much 
Unto  the  beings  they  unquestioned  bring 
Into  this  troublous  world! 
75 


Ed.  What!  serious? 

.  Ath.  Unto  the  utmost  limits  of  my  nature. 
Edgar,  thou  hast  my  full  respect  in  this, 
But  do  not  urge  me  further. 

Ed.  Nay,  I  will,  though. 

This  thy  respect  is  easy  as  a  faldstool. 
When  the  occasion's  past,  why,  thou  canst  clap  it 
Into  thy  pocket  and  be  off  straightway. 

Atb.  The  occasion  for  respect  unto  my  mon 
arch 

Shall  never  pass.     One  thing  I  pray  thee,  Edgar : 
As  thou  dost  love  me,  give  not  overhearing 
Unto  that  Oswald.     He  is  quick  to  learn 
The  crookings  o'  men's  humor,  and  hath  wit 
That  in  fine  language,  as  in  courtiers'  robes, 
Doth  dress  his  peasant  soul. 

Ed.  I'll  note  him.     Come, 

We  can  discuss  these  matters  as  we  ride. 

[Enter  a  SERVANT,  hurriedly.] 

Ser,  My  liege,  my  liege !  the  dame  Elfleda — 

Ed.  Well  ? 

Ser.  She  hath  been  taken  seriously  ill  5 
I  am  sent  hither  by  her  women. 

Ed.  Well? 

Ser.  She  calls  for  thee ;  naught  will  appease 

her.     Sir, 
For  God's  love,  hasten ! 

Ed.  Oh,  I  know  her  feignings ! 

76 


Go  on,  I'm  coming.     Athelwold,  remain  ; 
I  will  not  long  be  gone.  [Exit.] 

Ath.  Is  this  myself?     Doth  this  my  haughty 

body 

Consent  to  hold  my  present  spirit  ?     Oh, 
Methought  this  flesh  o'  mine  would  have  dissolved 
With  very  loathing  of  its  craven  life  ; 
Yet  this  my  heart  doth  thrive  on  liar's  blood  5 
And  what  hath  poisoned  peace  hath  not  so  much 
As  turned  a  hair  of  seeming.    What !  get  children 
To  face  Perhaps  ?     What !  men  be  born  of  me, 
That  the  foul  river  of  my  veins  may  flow 
To  taint  the  future  with  a  race  of  liars  ? 
No !  let  my  sins  and  me  pack  one  sure  grave, 
Nor  leave  a  ghost  behind.     Yet  'tis  not  new. 
These  tugs  with  destiny  have  wrenched  the  cords 
Of  longer  friendships — ay,  of  better  friends  ; 
And  love  of  woman  hath  caused  hate  of  man 
Since  David  sent  to  bloody  death  the  mate 
Lawful  of  her  whom  he  unlawful  loved! 
And  yet  to  do't,  and  yet  to  leave't  undone. 
There  are  her  eyes  to  keep  me  dauntless ;  yet 
His  eyes  are  here  to  shake  that  dauntlessness. 
O  God,  thou  knowest  that  my  soul's  desire 
Is  unto  him,  the  friend  of  my  glad  youth. 
Yea,  and  thou  knowest,  Satan,  the  desire 
Of  all  my  throbbing  veins  is  unto  her, 
Without   whom  life  were  death ;    with  whom, 

death — life. 

77 


ACT  V 

SCENE  i. — A  Room  in  OLGAR'S  Castle.     EL- 
FREDA  and  ATHELWOLD. 

Elf.  Away!  thou  wouldst  not  kiss  me. 

Ath.  I  would. 

Elf.  I  say  thou  wouldst  not. 

Atb.  And  I  that  I  would,  and  will.     So ! 

Elf.  Fie !  A  husband  for  a  sennight,  and  yet 
kiss  thy  wife  ? 

Atb.  Wouldst  have  me  kiss  another  man's  ? 
Look  !  Thy  hair  ! 

Elf.  What's  with  it  ? 

Ath.  'Tis  loose,  'tis  falling  (pulls  her  hair  down). 
Ah,  it  hath  fallen. 

Elf.  Oh,  a  fig  for  thee!  More  o' thy  tricks? 
Let  be — let  be — some  one  comes  this  way. 

Atb.  Where? 

Elf.  I  thought  I  heard  a  step. 

Ath.  Out  on  thee !  Thou  saidst  that  to  be  free 
of  my  fingering.  For  what  wilt  thou  let  me  kiss 
thee  through  that  rip  i'  thy  left  sleeve  ? 

Elf.  For  a  love -sick  boy.  There!  Go  to! 
Wait,  though.  Thou  hast  something  on  thine 
eyelash. 

Ath.  Thou  hast  something  under  thine. 

Elf.  What? 

78 


Atb.  Two  devils  in  blue,  which  thou  dost  call 
eyes  for  want  of  a  better  name. 

Elf.  Oh,  thou  art  past  all  reason.  But  an 
hour  gone  I  was  set  down  by  thee  as  an  angel. 
Now  thou  wilt  have't  that  mine  eyes  are  devils. 
My  poor  eyes!  What  have  they  done  that's 
devilish  ? 

Ath.  Killed  content. 

Elf.  What !  art  thou  not  contented  ? 

Atb.  No. 

Elf.  Not  contented  ? 

Ath.  No,  I  say. 

Elf.  Not  contented  ? 

Atb.  I  tell  thee,  no. 

Elf.  Now,  o'  my  word !    Well — for  why,  then  ? 

Ath.  For  that  I  have  not  been  thy  husband 
these  twenty  years. 

Elf.  Ha!  ha!  ha!  Why,  thou  hadst  had  a 
wife  in  swaddling  bands!  Ha!  ha!  ha!  I  tell 
thee  thou'rt  out  o'  all  reason. 

Ath.  So  that  I  am  in  thy  good  graces  I  care 
not. 

Elf.  Well,  do  not  sit  on  my  gown. 

Ath.  Pah !  I  do  honestly  think  that  a  wom 
an's  temper  is  tacked  to  her  gown.  Do  thou  but 
pull  her  gown  a  hair's-breadth,  her  temper  flies  i' 
thy  face. 

Elf.  That  were  a  pretty  roost ! 

Ath.  What? 

79 


Elf.  That  nose  o'  thine.     Oh,  I  love  thee. 

[Throwing  herself  into  his  arms.] 

Ath.  I  am  glad  o't,  sweetheart.  Why  so  sud 
denly  ? 

Elf.  Oh,  I  know  not.  For  that  thou  looked  at 
me. 

Atb.  Now  thou'st  done  it. 

Elf.  How? 

Ath.  Thou'lt  ne'er  get  me  to  look  away  from 
thee. 

Elf.  Then  so. 

[Covers  his  eyes  with  her  hands.] 

Atb.  (taking  down  her  hands,  and  with  sudden 
seriousness).  Look  thou  —  as  thou  wert  on  thy 
death-bed.  Unto  what  measure  dost  thou  love 
me  ? 

Elf.  Beyond  the  stretch  of  space,  It  is  as 
though  all  love  since  time  began  were  packed 
into  the  holding  of  my  heart. 

Atb.  Wilt  thou  swear  it  ? 

Elf.  Ay. 

Atb.  Wilt  thou  kneel  and  swear  it  ? 

Elf-  Ay. 

Ath.  On  my  sword  ? 

Elf.  Ay,  on  thy  sword,  thyself,  thy  love,  thy 
God.     What !     Dost  thou  doubt  me  ? 
Atb.  No — not  thee. 
Elf.  What,  then? 

Atb.  That  this  should  last.    Look  thou :  I  am 
80 


gentle,  but  milk  frozen  is  hard — ay,  hard  and 
cold.  Were  I  to  doubt  thee — 

Elf.  Well? 

Ath.  All  that's  now  warm  would  freeze. 

Elf.  How  strange  thou  art ! 

Ath.  Belike  I  am.  See  that  thou  art  true.  I 
have  given  much  for  thee  ;  more  than  thou  know- 
est.  Let  us  without.  I  am  an  enemy  to  housed 
air.  Come !  [Exeunt.] 

SCENE  2. — A  Room  in  EDGAR'S  Palace. 

[Enter  ELFLEDA  and  OSWALD.] 
Elfl.  Is  it  not  time  ? 
Os--w.  Perhaps. 

Elfl.  I  say  it  is. 

Let  not  "  perhaps  "  affront  me.     He'll  walk  here 
In  this  same  gallery  for  an  hour  or  so, 
Ere  he  goes  forth  to  play  at  quoits.      Thou'lt 

speak  him  ? 

Osvu.  'Tis  in  my  mind. 

Elfl.  Well,  set  it  free.     How  long 

Have  they  been  wedded  ? 

Osw.  Full  a  month. 

Elfl.  Then  speak. 

Here  is  the  King.     Thou'lt  do  it  ? 

OS-TV.  Leave't  to  me. 

Elfl.  If  thou'lt  inflame  him,  I've  an  uncut  em 
erald 

Shalt  sleep  with  thee  to-night. 
L  81 


Osiv.  I  thank  thee,  madam. 

Leave  him  to  me. 

Elfl.  Nay,  wait.  Hast  thought  it  over  ? 

What  is  thy  speech  ? 

OS-TV.  My  wit  shall  be  the  prompter. 

I  know  not.  Leave't  to  me.  He's  here. 

Elfl.  Remember. 

[Exit  ELFLEDA.] 

[Enter  EDGAR.] 

Ed.  My  falcons  !  ho,  my  falcons !    (Seeing  OS 
WALD.)     There,  sir  ?     Come, 
Foot  it  awhile.     Nay,  I'll  not  ride  a-hawking. 
I  have  bethought  me  of  an  irksome  stiffness, 
Caught  yesterday  while  sleeping.     Gods!  I  am 

weary 
Of  everything ! 

Os-iv.  Now,  if  Lord  Athelwold 

Were  here,  my  liege.     He  doth  so  know  your 

humor. 

Ed.  Ay ;  but  he's  sick  o'  love,  as  I  of  nothing. 
OS-TV.  What !  is  love  nothing  ? 
Ed.  Ay,  Sir  Priest,  to  you, 

Or  should  be.     I  will  have  my  falcons,  now 
I've  thought  of  it  again.     Would  Athelwold 
Were  here,  in  truth !     There's  Metal,  my  good 

monk! 

A  sportsman  to  the  edges  of  his  nails. 
Would  love  were  done  with  him ! 
82 


"REMEMBER" 


OSTV.  Your  Majesty — 

Ed.  Well?     Well? 

OS-TV.  You  were  not  e'en  deceived  in  aught — 
But  no,  I  will  not  say't.     I  fear  your  wrath 
May  strike  the  tree  ere  that  its  fruit  be  ripe. 

Ed.  What  tree  ?     What  fruit  ? 

OS-TV.  The  tree  o1  my  dear  duty 

Unto  your  Majesty ;  the  fruit  of  loyalty. 

Ed.  This  hath  been  taken  from  an  unpreached 

sermon, 

Hath't  not,  good  Oswald  ?     'Tis  too  fine  for  me. 
I  like  your  downright  speech  that  pelts  like  hail, 
Or  flies  like  chips  beneath  the  sharp  axe-blows 
Of  some  keen  mind  against  the  Tree  o'  Knowl 
edge. 

That  tree  I've  heard  of,  but  the  tree  o'  duty 
My  woodcraft  knows  not.     Come !     Deceived, 

thou  saidst. 
What  of  deceived  ? 

OS-TV.  Oh,  'twas  a  thought. 

Nay,  I'll  be  brave  in  this  ;  I'll  not  dissemble, 
Even  though  my  truth  should  prove  my  death. 

Your  Majesty, 
There  have  been  tales  of  late. 

Ed.  Well,  on ;  what  tales  ? 

Hast   thou   yet   tried  that  new -marked   tennis 

court  ? 
But  of  these  tales  ? 

OS-TV.  'Twill  hit  your  heart-ribs,  sire. 

83 


Ed.  Well,  word  it.      As  we  talk  of  ribs,  Sir 

Monk, 

There  is  a  boy  in  Essex,  they  do  say, 
Can  crack  an  ox's  ribs  in  one  arm-crotch. 
If  this  be  true,  we'll  have  him  brought  to  Court. 
But  of  these  tales  ? 

Os<w.  Belike,  sire,  I  do  irk  you  ; 

They  touched  on  one  your  Majesty  well  loves. 

Ed.  Ha? 

Os<w.      Ay,  my  liege. 

Ed.  On  whom  ? 

Os*w.  On  Athelwold. 

Ed.  On  Athelwold  ? 

Os-iv.  None  other. 

Ed.  Pah!  more  lies. 

Well,  what  is  it  they  say  ? 

Os--w.  Oh,  sire,  belike 

It  is  but  lies.     I  do  regret  me  much 
Of  having  spoken. 

Ed.  Nay,  what  is  it  ? 

Os<w.  Sire, 

I  fear  thou  wilt  blame  me  for  blaming  him. 
Yet  'tis  not  I  who  blame  him  ;  I  did  hear't 
From — 

Ed.  Ay,  ay ;  from  whom  didst  thou  hear  it  ? 

Os-w.  Why, 

Frothi,  the  page  of  Athelwold,  doth  talk 
Sometimes  in's  sleep.     But  saints !     All  of  us 
know 

84 


A  sleepy  tongue  doth  give  but  crooked  mean 
ing. 

I  trust  no  man  will  ever  judge  me,  sire, 
By  th'  words  I  speak  in  sleep. 

Ed.  What  said  he  ?     On, 

On ;  thou  dost  know  my  temper.     What  said 

he? 

Osiv.  Oh,  he  let  fall  some  broken  words.     In 
deed, 

Indeed,  your  Majesty,  urge  me  not  to't. 
'Tis  an  ungracious  office  at  the  best, 
To  smirch  the  soul's  gear  of  an  absent  man. 
Ed.  Nice  scruples  lately  learned,  good  Oswald. 

Come, 
Give  me  these  rumors. 

Osw.  Rumors  ? 

Ed.  Ay,  ay,  ay— 

These  rumors — words — sleep-tellings — I  care  not 
How   thou  baptizest  them.      The  words  —  the 

words. 

Os--w.  I  cannot  now  recall  them  but  in  frag 
ments. 

Ed.  The  fragments,  then — the  fragments. 
OS-TV.  Well,  for  one, 

He  said — 

Ed.  Go  on — go  on. 

Os-iv.  As  I  recall  it, 

He  said  some  such  like  words  (I  pray  you  grace 
If  I  do  hesitate,  but  'tis  my  wish 
85 


To  be  in   all   things  just).     The    words  were 

these : 

"  She  is  too  beautiful."     Yes,  that  was  it. 
Twice  o'er  he  said  it :  "  She's  too  beautiful." 

Ed.  What  she  ? 

OS-TV.      I  know  not.     That  is  what  I'd  know. 

Ed.  God's  eyes  !     Is  this  thy  wondrous  tale  ? 

Dost  know 

This  hath  the  sister  look  to  impudence  ? 
Why,  out  of  question,  'twas  some  comely  wench 
The   boy  had  dreamed  of  kissing.     Look  you, 

priest, 

I've  ne'er  brooked  lightness  ;  shall  I  brook  it  now 
My  heart  is  heavy  ? 

OS-TV.  Sire,  this  was  not  all. 

Ed.  Not  all  ?     Go  on. 

Osw.  He  next  did  cry  aloud, 

"  This  fair  Elfreda— " 

Ed.  Ha! 

Ofw.  "  This  fair  Elfreda 

Hath  mischief  in  her  eyes  !" — no — wait — 

Ed.  How  no  ? 

How  no  ?     Said  he  not  that  ?     Have  care — have 
care. 

OS-TV.  Not  that  precisely.    It  was,  so  I  think — 
"  This  fair  Elfreda  hath—" 

Ed.  Elfreda? 

Os<w.  "  Hath 

A  devil  in  her  eye."     Yea,  that  was  it. 
86 


Not  "  mischief" — "  devil " — 'twas  this  "  devil," 

sire, 
Did  puzzle  me. 

Ed.  This  "  fair  Elfreda  ?" 

Os<w.  Ay, 

Fair  was  the  word. 

Ed.  Well,  well ;  and  if  it  was, 

There  may  be  ten  Elfredas  known  to  him. 
Well  ? 

Os-iv.  Ay,  there  may. 

Ed.  Was  this  all  ? 

Os--w.  Good,  my  lord, 

Let  this  vext  matter  sleep. 

Ed.  Thou  know'st  me  not, 

Or  else  too  well  do  know  me,  when  thou  speak'st 
Of  pausing  here  to  let  the  scent  grow  cool. 
Come,  was  there  more  ? 

Os<w.  Ay,  sire,  one  sentence. 

Ed.  Well,  sir  ? 

Osnu.  He  saith,  "  Old  Olgar  favors  it." 

Ed.  "Old  Olgar ?" 

Osiv.  "  Else  might  I  hope — " 

Ed.  Olgar? 

Osw.  As  I  do  live. 

Ed.  Thou  damned,  blue-jowled,  sleek,  crown- 
shaven  monk ! 

Thou  hast  invented  this !     Ay,  to  my  foot ! 
What !  thou  will  come  and  tongue  my  best-loved 
friend, 

87 


And  think  thy  throat  in  safety  ?     Know,  thou 

liar — 

Liar  and  coward — that  Lord  Athelwold 
Is  set  as  high  above  thy  power  to  hurt  him 
As  God's  throne  over  mine ! 

Os--w.  How,  sir — how,  sir — 

Wilt  murder  me  for  following  my  duty  ? 

Ed.  Duty  ?     It  is  the  most  ill-used  word 
That  ever  lent  excuse  unto  a  crime  ! 
Duty  ?     Thy  duty  ?     Give  me  honest  sin, 
And  'twill  show  fair  beside  such  duty  ! 

OS-TV.  Sire — 

Ed.  Speak   not  to   me !     What !    thou   didst 

dare —     O  God  ! 

Wilt  thou  endure  the  service  of  a  hound 
That  I,  a  mortal  king,  do  spit  upon  ? 
What !  this  of  Athelwold  ?     To  me  ?    To  me  ? 
And  thou  still  there  ! 

Osiv.  Sire,  there  is  more  than  this. 

Ed.  Name  but  his  name,  and  with  my  very 

hands 

I'll  tear  thy  tongue  out.    Dog !    Begone  !  begone ! 
Out  o'  my  sight !  [Exit  OSWALD.] 

Oh  shame,  that  I  have  listened 
Unto  such  treachery  !     I  have  been  trapped — 
Trapped  like  a  fox,  and  with  a  fox's  cunning. 
Ay,  ay,  thou  nimble-witted  liar  thou ! 
Ay — for  thou  art  a  liar — naught  else  were  pos 
sible. 

88 


Thou  shall  hear  more  o'  this !     To  come  to  me, 

Thy  King,  with  this  the  scrapings  o'  the  dish 

Of  thy  fat  envy ;  lies  so  like  the  truth 

That  one  less  sure  might  well  have  been  ensnared. 

And  yet,  though  I  myself  am  most  assured, 

I  owe  it  unto  him  to  prove  him  true. 

This   bag   o'   spleen,  this    Oswald,  this  cowled 

Satan, 

Shall  not  be  pleased  with  noting  my  displeasure. 
What,  ho,  there  !  ho,  there!  ho,  there,  Oswald! 

OS-TV.  Sire,  didst  thou  call  ? 

Ed.  Art  thou  a  fool,  Sir  Priest, 

As  well  as  knave  ?     Stand  there — no  nearer — 

there  ! 
Thou  think'st  belike  that  thou  hast  proved  the 

falseness 
Of  my  Thane  Athelwold  ? 

Os-iv.  Nay,  sire. 

Eft.  Thou  dost, 

Liar,  thou  dost.     By  Heaven  !  it  gives  me  joy 
To  think  how  thou  wilt  writhe  to  find  him  true. 
I'll  prove  his  truth  before  all  England.     Ay, 
And  then  I'll  give  them  word  of  the  fair  part 
Thou  didst  unto  him.     (Laughs.)     Dost  thou 

hear,  Sir  Priest, 

I  long  to  see  thee.     Thou  shall  ride  thyself 
And  bid  him  hither.     Dost  thou  hear  ?     Away, 
And  bid  him  hither  o'  ihe  instant ! 

[Exit  EDGAR] 


Osnv.  (looking  mockingly  after  EDGAR  as  he 

goes  out).  Sire, 

Thy  gentle  order  shall  be  straight  fulfilled. 
Most  noble  Edgar,  most  beloved  monarch, 
Most  gentle,  courteous,  kind,  and  just  of  kings, 
Such  pleasure  doth  it  give  me  to  obey 
Thy  sweet  commands  that  I'll  not  even  tarry 
To  spur  me,  but  will  ride  cowled  as  I  am 
To  bid  him  to  thee  (laughing) — ay,  to  bid  him 
to  thee.  [Exit  OSWALD.] 

SCENE  3. — Another  Room  in  the  Palace. 
[Enter  EDGAR,  followed  by  ELFLEDA.] 
Ed,  'Twill  be   some   time  before  they  come. 

Sit — sit. 

A  woman's  foot-sound  is  a  galling  thing 
When  all  thy  soul's  awry.     Sit  down  and  sing $ 
Thou'rt  ever  ready  with  thy  singing. 

Elfl.  Well, 

What  shall  I  sing  ?    (Aside.)  It  works !  It  works ! 

Brave  Oswald, 
Thou  shalt  a  bishopric  for  this  !     (Aloud.)  My 

liege, 
What  song  wilt  have  ? 

Ed.  Why,  any  ;  I  care  not — 

I  care  not.     Madam,  tell  me,  didst  thou  e'er 
Hold  speech  with  Frothi,  page  to  Athelwold  ? 
Elfl.  Ay,  sire,  an  honest  boy.      He  was  well 
liked 

00 


At  court,  though  I  have  heard  the  scullions  say 
He  was  a  noisy  bedfellow.     What  song 
Didst  thou  name,  sire  ? 

Ed.  Noisy  ?     How,  noisy  ? 

Elfl.  Noisy  ? 

There's  no  such  song  I  know  of.     Oh,  I  see  ! 
Thou'rt  still  on  the  Thane's  page.     Oh,  noisy, 

sir, 
Like  most  boys  in  their  sleep:  hard  breathing, 

restless, 

Given  to  mutterings — one  o'  your  sleep-talkers. 
Ed.  Sleep-talker?      Did  they  call  him  that? 

Sleep-talker  ? 
Elfl.  Ay,  'twas   the  word.      But  thou'st   not 

named  a  song. 

Ed.  Oh,  any,  woman  !     (Aside.)  Hum  !  sleep- 
talker  ! — hum  ! 

This  looks  as  though  they  had  all  this  concocted 
Between  themselves.     Oh,  I  will  be  suspicious 
Of  mine  own  lineage  and  legitimacy 
Ere  I  misdoubt  his  littlest  action.     Yet, 
If  he  were  false,  'tis  in  my  soul  to  hate 
Unto  the  measure  that  I  love !     False  ?     Pah  ! 
I  shame  myself  to  even  so  much  as  name  it. 
Elfl.  Thou  dost  not  wish  a  song,  then  ? 
Ed.  Ay,  a  dozen, 

A  dozen,  so  thou'lt  leave  me  to  my  thoughts. 
Choose  anything  and  sing  it.     Sing — sing — sing. 
[Throws  himself  upon  a  settle.] 
91 


Elfl.  (sings): 

The  fen-crickets  chatter, 
The  marsh-owls  whoo. 
Now  what  is  the  matter  ? 
Speak  one  ;  speak  two. 
"  Oh,  the  elves  are  here, 
And  much  we  fear 
They  will  kill  our  bairnies 
For  lack  o'  cheer !" 

The  elves  are  nimble, 

The  elves  are  quick  ; 
The  fen-crickets  wimble, 
The  owls  wax  sick. 
Soft,  now  5  give  ear : 
I  much  do  fear 
They  killed  those  bairnies 
For  lack  o'  cheer ! 

Ed.  As  damp  a  song  as  e'er  I  heard.    Methinks 
One  might  catch  cold  by  listening  to  such  songs ; 
The  very  marsh  air's  in  it.     Dost  thou  know 
A  healthy  song  with  more  o'  sunshine  in't  ? 
Hark,  there  !    You,  madam — you.     Canst  not  be 

quiet  ? 

Oh,  how  these  women's  dresses  shriek  withal 
When  thou  wouldst  most  be  still !    That  voice  I 

heard — 

I  could  have  sworn  'twas  Athelwold's ! 
92 


[Enter  ATHELWOLD  and  OSWALD.] 

Why,  friend ! 

God  save  thee !     There  is  magic  in  this  speed. 
How  got'st  thou  here  in  such  short  time,  my 

Thane  ? 
Atb.  Why,  Oswald,  sire,  did  meet  me  at  thy 

gates. 
Ed.  My  soldier !      Saints !    but  I  am  glad  to 

grip  thee  ! 
Come,  both    thy    hands.      Sir    Monk,  remain. 

Look,  Brother, 
Thou'rt  come  at  a  good  time.     'Twill  be  but 

just 

That  I  do  now  return  thy  visit.     Ay, 
Stare  not  upon  me.     Thou  there,  sir,  go  not. 
I  purpose,  Athelwold,  to  honor  thee 
By  visiting  thy  castle.     Ay,  to-night 
I'll  sup  with  thee  and  with  thy  lady,  man ; 
This  very  night. 

Atb.  Sup  with  me  ? 

Ed.  (impatiently).  Ay — ay — ay. 

You  started ! 

Atb.  'Twas  for  pleasure — 'twas  for  pleasure. 
Ed.  Pale,  too? 

Atb.  *  No — am  I  pale  ? 

Ed.  (apprehensively).      Ay — smooth  thy  brow, 
Put  on  a  bolder  air.     I'll  tell  thee  all. 
Shake  off  that  look — that  look. 
93 


Atb.  Thou' It  sup  with  me  ? — 

To-night  ? 

Ed.  (with  amazement  and  a  sort  of  shamed  sor 
row).  Ay — still  that  look. 

Atb.  It  is  an  honor 

Past  my  deserving. 

Ed.  Tush  !     That  game  to  me  ? 

Go  to  !   go  to  ! 

Atb.  Sire,  if  thou  couldst  but  tarry, 

But  give  me  time  to  offer  thee  a  welcome 
Worthy  thy  state  and  majesty. 

Ed.  What!  this 

From  Athelwold  to  Edgar  ?     Majesty  ? 
State  ?     Thou  to  me — of  state  and  majesty  ? 
Am  I  not  welcome  ? 

Atb.  Welcome  ?     Oh,  indeed, 

To  th'  utmost.    But  my  wife  !    It  doth  seem  just 
That  she  be  warned,  so  that  she  may  prepare 
Such  welcome  as  her  woman's  vanity 
Would  joy  to  offer. 

Ed.  Why,  I  say,  have  done. 

I'll  come  in  such  old  trappings,  good  my  Thane, 
As  will  put  ceremony  out  of  place. 
Yet,  if  thou'dst  do't,  ride  on,  and  I  will  follow. 

Atb.  (going.)  Then  I  will   go  o'  th'  instant. 
Short  farewell. 

Ed.  Why,  rest  thee,  man.    What  is  thy  haste  ? 

Atb.  None — none — 

None,  o'  my  word. 

94 


Ed.  (watching  his  nervous  movements).  Why, 
art  thou  restless  ? 

Atb.  Who  ? 

I  ?     I'm  not  restless. 

Ed.  But  thine  eyes  ! 

Atb.  Look,  sire : 

Why  hast  thou  kept  the  priest  ? 

Ed.  Oh,  for  a  whim. 

He  frets  thee  ?     Bid  him  hence. 

Ath.  (to  OSWALD).  Away  with  thee  ! 

Os-iu.  Your  lordship's  will  in  all. 

[Exit  OSWALD.] 

Ath.  (looking  after  him  and  speaking  between 
his  teeth).  Obsequious  hound ! 

I  see  thy  part  in  this. 

Ed.  What's  that  thou  saidst  ? 

Speak  out. 

Atb.  Mere  habit ;  I  but  thought  aloud. 

Edgar,  why  wilt  thou  keep  this  fellow  near  thee? 

Ed.  I  keep  him  not.     A  sly  knave. 

Atb.  A  sly  devil. 

Ed.  I  think  so. 

Atb.  And  I  know  so.     Would  to  God 

I  were  thyself  but  for  a  heart-beat ! 

Ed.  Why? 

Atb.  To  have  him  strangled.    But  if  thou  dost 

purpose 
To  sup  with  me  to-night — 

Ed.  I'm  set  on  it. 

95 


Atb.  Then  pray  you  grant  that  I  set  forth  at 

once. 
My  wife  will  blame  me — 

Ed.  What !  so  soon  submissive  ? 

Atb.  Ay,  ay. 

Ed.  A  shrew,  then  ? 

Atb.  No — that  is — in  truth, 

A  vixen. 

Ed.          My  poor  Athelwold  !  cheer,  cheer. 
I  have  most  dearly  sold  thee.     Well,  away,  then. 

Atb.  I  thank  thee.  [Exit.] 

Ed.  If  he  hath  deceived  me —     Ho  ! 

My  falcons  !  there  !  without  there  !     If  in  truth 
He  hath  deceived  me —    Nay,  I  will  not  think  it. 
My  falcons  !  [Exit.] 

SCENE  4. — A  Room  in  ATHELWOLD'S  Castle. 
ELFREDA  playing  with  her  dog.  NURSE  spin 
ning. 

Elf.  Now,  sir,  up,  up ;  sit  up,  I  say  ;  sit  up  ; 
And  when  I  call  the  name  of  Athelwold 
Give  tongue.     Now,  sir  !     I'  faith,  sir,  dost  thou 

know 

That  he,  thy  lord  and  mine,  Thane  Athelwold 
(Speak,  sir!),  comes  home  to-night  ?    Well  done! 

well  done! 

Well  done!     Nurse,  mark  him  now.     Say  Ath 
elwold, 

And  see  how  loyally  he  greets  the  name. 
96 


Nur.  What!  Athel wold— plain  so.     Well,  I 

have  said  it. 

Elf.  Lord,  Lord,  nurse !    how  thou  dost  out- 
patience  me ! 
How  shall  the  poor  beast  guess  thy  meaning, 

nurse, 

When  thou  dost  say't  without  a  spark  o'  mean 
ing? 
There,   go,  sir  !  —  down  !      He    answered    fast 

enough 
When  I  spoke.     Look  you,  nurse.     Let's  have  a 

game 

O'  love-making.     Look ;  thou  shalt  be  the  gal 
lant, 

I'll  be  thy  lady.     Oh,  so  much  I'm  won 
That  to  be  wooed  again  will  seem  most  sweet ! 
Come,  nurse.     Now,  nurse — good  nurse.     Come 

on ;  come,  nurse. 
Nur.  La,  honey !  what  wilt  have  ?     Me  be  a 

gallant  ? 
La,  in  my  kirtle ! 

Elf.  Oh,  we'll  feign  the  doublet. 

Now,  nurse,  down  on  thy  knees ! 

Nur.  Oh,  please  you,  lamb, 

I  am  so  twinged  with  gout  that  e'en  to  God 
I  ease  the  distance  with  a  footstool. 

Elf.  Well, 

Here's  one.     Now  kneel,  and  I  will  flout  thee. 
Nur.  So— 

N  97 


Ugh  !    My  poor  limbs  !    Ugh,  honey !    I  do  creak 
Like  some  old  gate. 

Elf.  Well,  never  mind  the  creaking. 

Woo !     Woo ! 

Nur.  O  Lord,  this  is  a  sorry  game ! 

How  shall  I  woo  ? 

Elf.  Why,  take  my  hand — dart  fire 

With  both    thine   eyes  —  or  one.      Oh,  as  you 

please. 
Say,  "  Fairest  lady,  I  am  dying  for  thee!" 

Nur.  I  am,  indeed. 

Elf.  What  ? 

Nur.  Dying  for  thee.    Oh  ! 

Both  legs  are  fast  asleep. 

Elf.  Away  with  thee ! 

Get  up.     I'll  be  the  gallant,  and  woo  thee. 
Now  see  how't  should  be  done.    "  Most  gracious 

lady, 

Upon  my  knees  I  do  implore,  beseech, 
One  gracious  smile!     Oh!  oh!     I  swoon,  I  die 
Because  of  thy  rare  beauty." 

Nur.  La,  go  to ! 

Elf.  "  Thy  lovely  eyes,  thy  beauteous  nose,  thy 

lips 
So  like  to  cherries." 

Nur.  Oh,  have  done,  thou  mischief! 

Thou'dst  been  a  lad,  I'll  warrant  thee  ! 
Let  me  unto  my  spinning. 

Elf.  Well,  go  on, 

98 


Go  on.     I  care  not  if  thou'rt  peevish.     Nurse, 
Where's  my  lord's  armor  ? 

Nur.  Safely  put  aside, 

As  he  did  bid  me. 

Elf.  Sweetest  nurse,  I  know 

Thou  lovest  me. 

Nur.  What  now  ? 

Elf.  Only  his  helmet. 

I  have  such  yearning  to  try  on  his  helmet. 
Do,  nurse  !    Look,  I  will  kiss  thee.    There! — and 
there ! 

Nur.  Well,  well.     I  verily  believe,  my  lamb, 
Thou'dst  coax  St.  Peter  to  give  up  the  keys 
That  thou  mightst  rummage  heaven. 

Elf.  And,  nurse — 

Nur.  Ay,  honey  ? 

Elf.  His  sword,  nurse.      Just  his  sword   and 

helmet,  nurse. 
Do  hurry,  nurse.     I'll  see  thou  getst  no  blame. 

Nur.  Well,  well.     I'll  humor  thee.         [Exit.] 

Elf.  How  long  she  tarries ! 

[Re-enter  NURSE,  with  ATHELWOLD'S  helmet.] 

Ah,  sweetest  nurse,  here  is  thy  kiss  ;  and  now 
Give  me  the  helmet.     Ah,  'tis  heavy — 

Nur.  Ay, 

'Tis  heavy,  that  I'll  vouch  for. 

Elf.  Look  you,  nurse, 

I  must  his  shield  for  mirror. 
99 


Nur.  Oh,  goto! 

Well,  then — thou  must,  then. 

[Exit,  and  returns  with  shield.] 

Here! 

Elf.  Oh,  is't  not  bright! 

Now,  nurse,  look  I  not  like  a  warrior  ? 

[Enter  ATHELWOLD.] 

Atb.  Ha,  my  sweet  warrior  !     Gods  !  how  fair 

thou  art ! 
Come,  kiss  me — kiss  me — kiss  me. 

Elf.  Madam  Nurse, 

Thou  canst  unto  thy  spinning  now. 

Nur.  (in  a  hurt  voice).  Oh,  ay — 

Oh,  ay — I  warrant  thee.     Now  he  is  come, 
Thy  old  nurse  is  as  nothing.  [Exit.] 

Atb.  Pray  thee,  dear, 

Say  some  kind  word  to  her.     She's  old,  and  loves 

thee 
Above  her  hope  of  heaven. 

Elf.  Not  I,  good  sooth  ! 

She  is  too  peevish,  and  expects  too  much. 
I  care  not  to  bestow  where  gifts  are  looked  for. 
Fair  sir,  how  seem  I  in  thy  helmet  ? 

Atb.  Why, 

A  maiden  knight  in  verily.     Elfreda, 
Dost  love  me  less  or  more  than  yesterday  ? 

Elf.  More. 

Atb.       Art  thou  sure  ? 

IOO 


Elf.  Sure  ?     Oh,  ay,  sure  enough. 

Show  me  to  swing  thy  sword — how  is  it  ? 

Ath.  Nay,  thou  dost  not  love  me  as  thou  didst ! 

Elf.  Why,  yes, 

I  do — I  said  so.     Are  all  swords  so  long 
As  this  one  ?     Ugh  !  'tis  heavy. 

Atb.  Ay,  'tis  heavy. 

Heart  of  me,  cease  from  play.     I  need  thee  more 
To-day  than  I  e'er  needed  thee. 

Elf.  What  for? 

Is't  that  old  wound  ? 

Atb.  Ay,  that  old  wound,  my  wife. 

Come,  sweet,  and   sit   beside   me.     Thou  shall 

listen 

Unto  a  story  such  as  thou  dost  love, 
Of  strange  and  curious  happenings. 

Elf.  A  love  story  ? 

Atb.  In  most  a  hate-story ;  but  cheer,  my  heart, 
There's  love  in  it — ay,  there  is  love  in  it. 

Elf.  Well,  tell  me. 

Atb.  Sit  where  I  can  see  thy  face. 

There — that  is  well.     There  dwelt  in  Christen 
dom — 

Elf.  Oh,  specify,  or  I  care  not  to  hear  it. 
Name  town  and  country,  knights  and  masters  all, 
Even  to  the  dragon — if  there  be  a  dragon. 

Atb.  Well,  well,  love,  as  you  will.     There  was 

a  knight 

Dwelt  in  the  town  of  London.    A  stanch  knight, 
101 


Who  loved  his  king,  and  was  by  him  beloved. 
His  name  was — Osric,  and  he  loved  the  king. 

Elf.  And  the  king's  name  ? 

Atb.  Geffry. 

Elf.  Methinks  the  knight 

Was  fairer  christened.      Canst  not  change  the 
names  ? 

Atb.  No,  no  ;   no  matter ;  let  me  on.     The 
king — Geffry — 

Elf.  Now,  why  not  call  him  Osric,  dear, 

An't  pleases  me  ? 

Atb.  Oh,  Osric,  then,  the  king. 

Osric  the  king  did  one  day  seek  his  knight, 
Sir  Geffry,  and  did  tell  him  how  report 
Had  come  to  him  of  a  most  beauteous  maiden, 
Who  dwelt  in  Warwickshire — a  maid  so  fair 
All  England  was  most  rich  in  rumors  of  her. 

Elf.  Why,  that's  like  me. 

Atb.  Ay,  'tis.     Geffry  the  king — 

Elf.  Osric,  my  love. 

Atb.  Osric,  I  mean — did  urge 

That  Geffry  should  unto  the  maiden's  home 
To  find  if  she  were  fair  as  men  did  say. 
For  if  she  were,  he,  Osric,  did  intend 
To  wed  her,  and  to  make  her  lawful  queen 
Of  England. 

Elf.  Oh,  most  lucky  maid  !    Her  name  ? 

Atb.  Edwitha.     Now,  although   in  truth   the 
knight 

102 


Liked  not  the  office,  yet,  since  he  loved  his  king, 
He  did  put  pride  away,  and  straight  set  forth 
For  Warwickshire.      There   being   arrived   and 

welcomed, 

He  found  the  maid  so  far  above  his  wildest, 
Most  wine -helped  dreams  of  beauty  that  from 

wondering 
He  stepped  to  loving  her. 

Elf.  To  loving  her  ? 

Ath.  To  loving  her,  until  there  seemed  no  part 
Of  mind,  soul,  body,  honor,  left  uneaten 
Of  this  most  ravenous  love.     He  worshipped  her. 
She  was  his  god,  his  heaven,  his  hope  of  heaven, 
His  king,  his  queen,  his  pride,  his  truth,  his  all. 
So  fused  in  this  fierce  fire  were  pride  and  faith 
That  to  divide  them,  make  them  twain  again, 
Were  unaccomplishable  !     He  had  bought 
One  of  her  kisses  with  a  life  of  shame  ; 
One  year  with  her  by  twenty  years  in  hell. 
There  was  no  limit  to  his  recklessness, 
No  bound  unto  the  blasphemy  and  woe 
He  would  have  dared  to  win  her. 

Elf.  And  the  maid  ? 

Ath.  He  thought  she  loved  him. 

Elf.  Well,  go  on,  go  on. 

Ath.   He   thought  she   loved   him.      Twenty 

thousand  times 

She  swore  she  loved  him.   Looks  and  lips  and  voice 
All  said  she  loved  him. 

103 


Elf.  And  he  ?— he  ? 

Atb.  He  yielded 

To  this  most  perfectly  devised  temptation 
E'er  set  by  Baal  to  trap  a  soul  to  ruin ! 

Elf.  Yielded? 

Atb.  Ay,  yielded.     Canst  thou  credit  it  ? 

Yielded.     Forswore  his  manhood,  honor,  king, 
All  that  makes  sleep  a  friend  or  night  endeared. 

Elf.  And  she  was  never  queen  ? 

Atb.  Never ! 

Elf.  Oh,  shame ! 

He  was  most  foul  of  heart ! 

Atb.  Foul  is  thy  heart 

To  say  his  heart  was  foul !     O  woman,  woman, 
Wilt  thou  judge  man  ?     Will   ye,  whose  veins 

are  ice, 

Pronounce  upon  the  passions  of  the  men 
Who  melt  ye  but  can  never  kindle  ye  ? 
Away !  away !  thou  thing  of  snow.     The  fire 
Of  love  would  make  ye  but  a  puddle !     Oh, 
That  ye  should  dare  to  call  me  foul  of  heart, 
Whose    damning    hath    been    lawless    love    of 

thee! 

Out  on  ye,  lips!     Out  on  ye,  eyes,  hair,  hands, 
That  have  destroyed  me ! 

Elf.  Dost  thou  speak  to  me  ? 

What  have  I  done  ? 

Atb.  What  hast  thou  done  ?     O  God, 

Did  Lucifer  perchance  so  question  thee 
104 


"DOST   THOU    SPEAK    TO    ME?      WHAT 
HAVE    I    DONE  ?" 


Ere  he  was  cast  from  heaven  ?     What  done  ? — 

what  done  ? 

No,  no ;  I  am  not  yet  a  beast  in  all. 
My  heart  hath  split  with  this. 

Elf.  Nay,  Athelwold, 

How  could  I  know  thou  spokest  of  thyself? 
Ath.  Thou   shouldst  have  felt  it.     Oh,  hadst 

thou  e'er  loved  me, 

My  face  had  been  an  open  book  to  thee. 
What !     Thou  didst  think  it  all  mere  idle  talk ! 
Elf.  As  I  do  live,  I  thought  so. 
Atb.  Kneel  and  swear. 

Elf.  (kneeling).  By  all  in  heaven  I  swear  it. 
Atb.  Wait!     I  choke. 

Pray  thee,  undo  my  collar. 

Elf.  Athelwold! 

Athelwold!      Look  at  me.     Dost  thou  believe 

me  ? 
Ath.  Ay ;  but  'tis  too  much  joy.     Thy  leave 

awhile. 

Let  me  lean  so.     There,  do  not  touch  me.     Ah  ! 
That's  better  —  that  is  better.      Do  not  touch 

me — 
Not  yet. 

Elf.  How  couldst  thou  think  I  meant  it  ?    Oh, 
The  gentlest  men  are  cruel  when  they  love  ! 
Atb.  Right  hadst  thou  to  reproach  me.     I'll 

not  budge 

To  vindicate  mine  error.     Oh,  my  beauty, 
o  105 


My  untamed  hawk,  my  fierce,  soft-footed  tigress, 
Come,  set  thy  talons  in  me  !     Come,  despatch ! 
Rend  me  in  pieces,  so  thou  dost  but  touch  me  ! 
Elf.  How  thou  dost  love  me ! 

Ath.  Ah  5  and  even  thou — 

Thou  dost  not  know  to  what  extent.     Again ! 
Tell  me  again  thou  didst  not  mean  it. 

Elf.  Why, 

Thou  knowest  that  I  did  not. 

Atb.  Well,  again — 

Again — again.     O  lips,  I  cry  ye  pardon ! 
Sweet  hair,  sweet  eyes,  sweet  hands,  sweet  throat 

—all,  all, 

I  cry  ye  grace !     Nay,  stretch  not  in  mine  arms, 
Lest  I  do  crush  thee  for  thy  very  sweetness ! 
But,  heart,  to  reason.     Darling,  there's  no  time 
To  lose  'twixt  now  and  nighttide. 

Elf.  How  dost  mean  ? 

Atb.  Edgar  hath  been  informed.     That  knave, 

that  Oswald, 

Hath  told  him  all.     To-night  he  purposes 
To  sup  with  us. 

Elf.  To-night  ? 

Atb.  Ay,  this  same  night. 

Elf.  What  must  I  do  ? 

Ath.  I've  thought  upon  it,  heart. 

There  is  one  way,  one  only  way  to  save  us. 

E If.  And  that,  my  lord  ? 

Atb.  That  is  for  thee,  my  wife, 

1 06 


By  some  disguise,  some  stain  on  thy  fair  skin, 
Some  awkward  combing  of  these  graceful  tresses, 
To  mar  this  fatal  beauty  which  hath  ruined  me. 

Elf.  Make  myself  ugly  ? 

Ath.  Ay,  as  ugly,  sweet, 

As  one  so  fair  can  look. 

Elf.  And  let  the  King 

Think  that  I'm  hideous  ? 

Ath.  In  truth,  my  heart, 

The  more  he  thinks  thee  hideous,  the  better 
Thou'lt  find  some  way.     Come,  we  will  ask  thy 

nurse ; 
She  will  assist  thee.     Swiftly,  swiftly. 

[Exeunt.] 

A  Glade  in  the  Forest. 
[Enter  EDGAR  and  FROTHI.] 

Ed.  Well,  boy,  how   lik'st  thou   to   be  mis- 
tressed  ? 

Fro.  Sire, 

Had  she  not  such  a  beak,  I'd  love  her  well 
For  th'  gold  that  lines  her  nest. 

Ed.  Is  she  so  ugly  ? 

Fro.  Gods,  sire!     Thou  shouldst  but  see  her! 

Thou  wilt  sup 
But  sparingly  to-night. 

Ed.  How,  boy  ? 

Fro.  Why,  sire, 

She'd  take  away  the  appetite  o'  a  vulture. 
107 


But  there's  my  master's  horn.    Thy  pardon,  sire. 
I  run  to  help  thy  welcome.  [Exit.] 

Ed.  He's  not  false. 

No,  he  hath  not  deceived  me.     This  young  lad 
Wears  the  smooth,  easy  front  of  honesty. 
Would  now  that  I  had  lugged  the  priest  along 
To  grieve  at  my  rejoicing ! 

A  Room  in  ATHELWOLD'S  Castle. 
[Enter  ATHELWOLD.] 

Atb.  It  can  be  done.     It  can  be  done.     That's 

certain. 

Would  that  her  beauty  were  less  palpable, 
Less  self-assertive !     Nay — it  can  be  done. 
That  faded  gown,  ill-shapen  ;  then  her  hair 
Brought  low  and  covered  by  a  dingy  wimple  ; 
No  gems.     Her  eyebrows  dusted  o'er  with  flour. 
Some  dark  stain  on  her  pretty  teeth.     Yes,  yes — 
The  nurse  is  faithful.     Oh,  'tis  certain — ay, 
'Tis  a  sure  thing.     Would  I  had  time  myself 
To  look  upon  her  ere  she  comes !     But  then 
She  hath  her  womancraft  for  handmaiden, 
And  knowledge  of  her  possible  fate  withal 
To  egg  her  to  it.     Would  it  were  to-morrow! 
Or  Edgar  come  and  gone!     To  know  thyself 
That  thou  art  lying  is  sufficient  torture  ; 
But  when  'tis  known  to  wife  and  servant,  oh, 
'Tis  insupportable.     I  fear  myself — 
I  fear  myself  in  this.     Yet  she  doth  love  me — 
108 


All  else  is  nothing  while  that  she  doth  love  me. 
Wilful,  but  dear  in  all,  in  all  enchanting. 
Would  God  'twere  over !     Would  to  God  'twere 
over! 

0  heart,  thou  hang'st  too  heavy.    Cheerly,  heart ; 

1  have  sore  need  of  thee.     Be  stanch,  good  heart, 
And  break  not  with  this  monstrous  weight.      >«.r, 

[Enter  EDGAR.] 

Your  Majesty — 

Ed.  I  tell  thee  I've  no  majesty,  my  Thane, 
When  thou  dost  tax  me  with  it,  and  in  truth 
Am  urged  to  prove  its  lack  by  cuffing  thee  ! 
Out,  sir  !  to  thus  besire  and  bemajesty 
A  king  made  sick  with  too  much  deference ! 

Ath.  Wilt  seat  thee,  Edgar?     Supper  will  be 

served 
When  my  wife  enters. 

Ed.  Ay,  this  wife  o'  thine. 

Thou  didst  deserve  a  fairer  fate,  my  Thane, 
For  truth.  They  say  she  has  a  nose  withal 
To  make  a  pelican  top-heavy. 

Ath.  Nay, 

Her  nose  is  well  enough.    'Tis  that  she's  sallow 
And  scorched  by  many  summers.     Then,  alack  ! 
She   hath   black  teeth,  which  were  a  flaw  had 

marred 

The  Virgin  Mary.     Then,  she's  squarely  shaped. 
Well,  well — but  she  hath  gold. 
109 


Ed.  Ay,  gold.     But,  'faith, 

Thou  shouldst  be   better  spoused.     I   fear  thy 

children 
May  not  translate  thee  justly. 

Atb.  (bitterly).  Trust  me,  Edgar, 

If  e'er  I  have  a  child  'twill  be  no  great 
And  bulky  matter  for't  to  do  me  justice. 

Ed.  Well,  well,  Sir  Modesty.     She  tarries,  sir, 
Takes  her  own  time,  and,  not  content  with  that, 
Filches  her  King's.     Ha  !  ha  ! — I'll  wager,  man, 
She  stirs  thee  soundly. 

Atb.  Ay,  sir. 

Ed.  Well,  my  ride 

Hath  set  a  keen  edge  to  my  appetite  ; 
I'll  do  thy  viands  justice — doubt  me  not. 
How  keepest  Patience  still  a  guest,  my  Thane, 
In  this  old  castle  ?     Hast  thou  hawks  ?     Good 

sooth ! 

I'll  send  thee  such  a  couple  o'  jashawks,  man, 
Would  bring  thee  down  an  eagle. 

Ath.  No — no  gifts, 

For  God's  sake.     That  is,  couldst  thou  know  but 

once 
How  she  will  rail  at  such  diversion — 

Ed.  Well, 

So  be  it.     Seat  thee,  man.     It  seems  to  me 
This  trick  o'  walking  rooms  hath  grown  on  thee. 

Ath.  Most  like — most  like.     (Aside.)   Saints  ! 
What  doth  keep  her  ? 
no 


Ed.  So  ? 

Ha !  ha !  'tmay  serve  thee  in  good  stead,  Sir  Knave, 
If  the  young  Thane  should  be  a  burner  o'  al- 

nights. 
Ath.  Sir,  shall  we   drink  ?     Ho,  there !    some 

wine ! 

Ed.  Oh,  ay. 

I'll  no  more  turn  from  wine  than  babes  from  milk. 
Well,  well !     I'm  sorry  thou'lt  not  take  the  jas- 

hawks ; 
But  I've  a  barb.     Doth  your  wife  ride  ? 

Ath.  No,  no. 

Ed.  (laughing).  Horses  do  shy  at  her,  mayhap  ? 
Ath.         Oh,  ay. 
I  know  not.    Sometimes.   Here's  the  wine.    Kneel, 

boy, 
To  serve  a  king.     (Aside.)  Gods !  will  she  never 

come? 

Ed.  Here's  to  thy  truth. 
Ath.  And  thine. 

Ed.  Zounds  !  'tis  good  wine. 

Excellent  well,  f  faith. 

Ath.  The  butt  is  thine. 

Ed.  Why,  I'll  not  squiny  at  it.     Look   thee, 

man — 
Thou'lt  take  the  barb  now  ? 

Atb.  No,  no  ;  nothing — nothing  ! 

Ed.  I  see  thou'rt  moved  by  something,  Athel- 
wold. 

in 


If 'tis  thy  wife's  long  tarrying  that  frets  thee, 
I  know  these  women. 

.  Atb.  Yet,  sir,  she  was  robed 

When  I  came  forth  to  meet  thee. 

Ed.  Oh,  well,  patience. 

I  know  'em,  how  they'll  change  and  change  their 

fallals, 

Then  back  again,  then  as  they  were  at  first, 
Then  back  again.     But  wilt  thou  drink  ? 

Atb.  No  more. 

Ed.  One  horn — but  one.     Come,  quaff ! 

Atb.  Well,  then,  one  only. 

Ah !  'tis  her  foot ! 

Ed.  Thy  lady's  ? 

Atb.  Ay.     There — there — 

There  is  the  door  she'll  enter  by. 

Ed.  Thou'rt  pale. 

Thy  hand  shakes.     Lean  on  me.     Why  art  thou 

troubled  ? 
That  door  to  th'  middle  there  ? 

Atb.  Ay — that  one — that  one. 

Now— 

[Enter  ELFREDA,  slowly,  blazing  with  jewels,  and 
with  her  wimple  thrown  back.] 

God  in  heaven ! 

Ed.  What  is  this — some  trick  ? 

Speak,  madam.    You,  sir,  speak.    God's  eyes,  sir ! 
Speak, 

112 


When  I  command  thee.     Is  that  woman  there — 
I  choke  !  I  choke ! — thy  wife — Elfreda  ? 

Ath.  Ay. 

Elfreda,  and  my  wife. 

Ed.  What !  thou  dost  say  it  ? 

Thou,  madam — dost  thou  say  so  ?     Where's  thy 

tongue  ? 
I    will    be    answered.     Know'st   thou    I'm    the 

King, 

Edgar  of  England,  who  do  question  thee  ? 
Art  thou  Elfreda,  sometime  child  of  Olgar, 
The  Earl  of  Devonshire  ? 

Elf.  I  am  that  Elfreda. 

Ed.  Oh  God  !    My  brain's  on  fire.    Thou,  Ath- 

elwold, 
Thou — thou —     Come — lie  again — tell  me  this 

woman's 
Thy  wanton,  not  thy  wife. 

Ath.  Nay  ;  she  is  both 

My  wife  and  wanton. 

Elf.  Athelwold  !— my  lord — 

Ath.  Silence  !     Nor  ever  speak  to  me  again. 
Ed.  Madam — sweet  Heaven!  I  dream — this  is 

a  dream. 

I  know  I  dream — but  while  it  lasts  'tis  awful ! 
Ath.  Thou  dost  not  dream.     That  woman  is 

Elfreda, 

The  daughter  of  the  Earl  of  Devonshire. 
I  am  her  husband — Athelwold — thy  friend ! 
P  113 


Ed.  Oh,  horrible!     Madam,  knewest  thou  of 
this  ? 

Elf.  No — not  until  some  minutes  past,  my  liege. 

Ed.  What !  false  to  thee  as  well  ?     Oh,  cow 
ard! 

Ath.        Nay, 
Thou  shalt  not  live  to  call  me  coward. 

Elf.  Ah ! 

Put  up  thy  sword  if  but  for  love  of  me. 

Atb.  For  love  of  thee  ?     Harlot ! 

Elf.  What !  wilt  thou  dare  ? 

Ed.  Lady,  fear  not.     I  will  protect  thee.     Sir, 
I  cannot  quite  forget  thee.     Athelwold, 
Hast  thou  no  word  to  say  to  me  ?     No  whisper  ? 
Nothing  in  explanation  ? 

Atb.  Nothing. 

Ed.  What ! 

Nothing?    no  word?     Then  thou  wilt  brave  it 

out 

T  the  very  teeth  of  scorn?    Be  comforted  ; 
Thou  yet  shall  be  the  Queen  of  England,  lady. 

Ath.  Now  by  the  King  of  Heaven  she  shall  not! 

Ed.  Sir! 

Ath.  I  tell  thee,  Edgar,  whether  pure  or  vile 
She  is  my  wife,  and  with  my  very  blood 
I  will  protect  what's  left  to  me  of  honor, 
Though  it  be  smaller  than  the  littlest  freckle 
Upon  a  lily. 

Ed.  Thou  dost  dare — dost  dare  ? 

114 


Atb.  (swinging  ELFREDA  behind  him).  This  is 

the  wife  of  Athelwold  the  Thane. 
Let  no  man  touch  her,  though  he  were  in  all 
Ten  thousand  times  thy  better  and  a  king ! 
Ed.  Slave! 

Atb.  By  my  sword !    Now  look  I  like  a  slave  ? 
What !  thou  wouldst  violate  the  marriage  law 
Beneath  my  very  roof?     Thou  wouldst  make  free 
With  this  my  wife  before  my  very  eyes — 
Unhood  Adultery  and  slip  the  jesses 
Of  Rapine,  and  then  think  to  see  me  bear  it  ? 
Lay  but  thy  finger  on  her,  and  this  sword, 
Which  in  thy  cause  hath  druuk  so  much  clean 

blood, 
Shall  make  thy  heart  its  sheath ! 

Ay,  thou  mayst  rage, 
Ay,  fume !    Wert  thou  the  King  of  twenty  Eng- 

lands 
Thou    shouldst    not    have    this  woman  to   thy 

Queen ! 

Nor  think  it  love  that  spurs  me.     No,  oh  God ! 
Love  lies  more  deeper  buried  than  the  roots 
Of  this  mad  world.     It  is  not,  verily, 
That  I  do  love  this  woman  as  my  wife, 
But  that  as  wife  she  hath  some  part  in  me, 
And  therefore  shall  not  be  dishonored.     Back ! 
Back  to  your  court,  O  Edgar,  and  remember 
Kings  should  be  subject  to  the  laws  they  make, 
As  God  himself  is  subject  to  his  laws. 
"5 


Ed.  Wrongs  me  and  words  me  too  ?     Back, 

sir,  thyself  \ 
Atb.  So  thou  wilt  dare  me,  then  ?     Make  her  a 

widow 
And  thou  shalt  have  her ! 

Ed.  Oh,  I'll  have  her. 

[They  fight.] 

Elf.  Nay, 

Gentlemen  !  gentlemen !     My  lord  !  God's  love ! 
Will  you  be  reasonable  ?     Oh,  help !  help ! 
Help, there!  Without  there !  Frothi !  Frothi!  Ho! 
Ho,  there!  [Rushes  out.] 

Ed.       Thoifrt  wounded. 
Ath.  There  is  one  for  thee. 

Ed.   Bloodthirsty    as    a    wolf.      Again !      Be 

warned ! 
Atb.  Have  at  thee  !     Wilt  thou  falter  ? 

[They  fight.] 

Ed.  Be  thy  blood 

On  thine  own  head  ! 
Ath.  Amen. 

[Re-enter  ELFREDA  with  FROTHI.  ATHELWOLD 
falls  as  they  enter.] 

All's  done.     Farewell,  boy. 
Thou  wert  true.  [Dies.] 

Elf.  (struggling  with  EDGAR,  who  tries  to  hold 
her).  Unloose  me !     Nay,  I  will  go  to  him  !     I 
say  I  will !  [Rushes  to  him.] 

116 


Athelwold  !     Athelwold  !     My  love !  my  lord ! 
My  husband !    Look,  I'm  here — I'm  here  !    Thy 

wife  ! 

Elfreda !     Oh,  I  meant  it  not !     Look  up  ! 
Boy,  he's  not  dead.     Thou'rt  keeping  back  the 

air 

By  hanging  over  him.     Away !     My  lord  ! 
Athelwold !      What  ?      These    stains   upon   my 

hands! 

Jewels,  I  hate  thee  !     Off,  ye  traitors  !     Thus — 
Thus  do  I  rid  me  of  my  queenhood,  thus 
Return  to  thee.     Look,  I  am  stript  of  all 
That  wrought  thy  anger!     Look,  I'll  tear  my 

face 

With  these  my  very  nails  until  I  seem 
More  vile  than  visible  sin ! 

What !  not  a  motion  ? 
Boy,  chafe  his  hands.     Oh,  I  will  follow  thee. 

[Swoons.] 
Fro.  O    fair   and   false !     O   master !    master ! 

master ! 

[Enter  OSWALD.] 

Os-iv.  Your  Majesty,  how  goes  the  festival  ? 
What !  nothing  touched  upon  the  table  ?  Ah ! 
Who  is  the  lady  ? 

Fro.  (stabbing  him).  Go  and  ask  my  master ! 
O  filthy  priest,  this  was  thy  handiwork 
From  first  to  last. 

117 


Osw.  My  liege,  I'm  hurt  to  death. 

See  that  yon  humpbacked  pack  o'  villany 
Doth  suffer  for  this  deed.     Promise ! 

Ed.  Not  I. 

He  shall  in  naught  be  punished.     As  for  thee, 
Thy  punishment,  false  priest,  is  in  the  hands 
Of  that   High    King  whom   thou   hast   always 

served 
With  more  of  treachery  ev'n  than  thou'st  served 

me, 
Thy  mortal  monarch. 

(To  FROTHI.)  Call  thy  lady's  women  ; 
She  hath  but  swooned,  I  think.  O  Athelwold ! 
Would  God  that  I  lay  there  instead  of  thee ! 


THE    END 


BY   AMELIE    RIVES. 

A  BROTHER  TO  DRAGONS,  AND  OTHER 
OLD-TIME  TALES.  Post  8vo,  Cloth,  Or 
namental,  $i  oo. 

VIRGINIA  OF  VIRGINIA.  A  Story.  Il 
lustrated.  Post  8vo,  Cloth,  Ornamental, 
$i  oo.  

Miss  Rives  has  imagination,  breadth,  and  a  daring  and 
courage  of  tenest  spoken  of  as  masculine.  Moreover,  she 
is  exquisitely  poetical,  and  her  ideals  are  of  an  exalted 
order.— N.  Y.  Star. 

It  was  a  little  more  than  two  years  ago  that  Miss  Rives 
made  her  first  literary  conquest,  a  conquest  so  complete 
and  astonishing  as  at  once  to  give  her  fame.  How  well 
she  has  sustained  and  added  to  the  reputation  she  so  sud 
denly  won  we  all  know,  and  the  permanency  of  that  rep 
utation  demonstrates  conclusively  that  her  success  did  not 
depend  upon  the  lucky  striking  of  a  popular  fancy,  but 
that  it  rests  upon  enduring  qualities  that  are  developing 
more  and  more  richly  year  by  year. — Richmond  State. 

It  is  evident  that  the  author  has  imagination  in  an  un 
usual  degree,  much  strength  of  expression,  and  skill  in 
delineating  character. — Boston  Journal. 

There  are  few  young  writers  who  begin  a  promising 
career  with  so  much  spontaneity  and  charm  of  expression 
as  is  displayed  by  Miss  Rives. — Literary  H  'arid,  Boston. 

Miss  Rives  is  essentially  a  teller  of  love  stories,  and 
relates  them  with  such  simple,  straightforward  grace  that 
she  at  once  captures  the  sympathy  and  interest  of  the 
reader.  .  .  .  There  is  a  freshness  of  feeling  and  a  min 
gling  of  pathos  and  humor  which  are  simply  delicious. — 
ffew  London  Telegraph. 

PUBLISHED  BY  HARPER  &  BROTHERS,  N.  Y. 

IGF  HARPER  &  BROTHERS"^/  send  either  of  the  above 
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